arising out of the
introduction to each other of those two men.
You will agree with me that a
scandal may prove a
valuableobstacle in the way of a marriage.
Mr. Winterfield has kindly invited me to call on him when he is
next in London. I may then have opportunities of putting
questions which I could not
venture to ask on a short
ac
quaintance.
In the
meantime, I have obtained another
introduction since my
return to town. I have been presented to Miss Eyrecourt's mother,
and I am invited to drink tea with her on Wednesday. My next
letter may tell you--what Penrose ought to have
discovered--whether Romayne has been already entrapped into a
marriage
engagement or not.
Farewell for the present. Remind the Reverend Fathers, with my
respects, that I possess one of the
valuable qualities of an
Englishman--I never know when I am beaten.
BOOK THE THIRD.
CHAPTER I.
THE HONEYMOON.
MORE than six weeks had passed. The
wedded lovers were still
enjoying their
honeymoon at Vange Abbey.
Some
offense had been given, not only to Mrs. Eyrecourt, but to
friends of her way of thinking, by the
strictly private manner in
which the marriage had been
celebrated. The event took everybody
by surprise when the
customaryadvertisement appeared in the
newspapers. Foreseeing the unfavorable
impression that might be
produced in some quarters, Stella had pleaded for a timely
retreat to the seclusion of Romayne's country house. The will of
the bride being, as usual, the bridegroom's law, to Vange they
retired accordingly.
On one lovely
moonlight night, early in July, Mrs. Romayne left
her husband on the Belvidere, described in Major Hynd's
narrative, to give the
housekeeper certain instructions relating
to the affairs of the household. Half an hour later, as she was
about to
ascend again to the top of the house, one of the
servants informed her that "the master had just left the
Belvidere, and had gone into his study."
Crossing the inner hall, on her way to the study, Stella noticed
an unopened letter, addressed to Romayne, lying on a table in a
corner. He had probably laid it aside and forgotten it. She
entered his room with the letter in her hand.
The only light was a
reading lamp, with the shade so lowered that
the corners of the study were left in
obscurity. In one of these
corners Romayne was dimly
visible, sitting with his head sunk on
his breast. He never moved when Stella opened the door. At first
she thought he might be asleep.
"Do I
disturb you, Lewis?" she asked softly.
"No, my dear."
There was a change in the tone of his voice, which his wife's
quick ear detected. "I am afraid you are not well," she said
anxiously.
"I am a little tired after our long ride to-day. Do you want to
go back to the Belvidere?"
"Not without you. Shall I leave you to rest here?"
He seemed not to hear the question. There he sat, with his head
hanging down, the
shadowycounterfeit of an old man. In her
anxiety, Stella approached him, and put her hand caressingly on
his head. It was burning hot. "O!" she cried, "you _are_ ill, and
you are
trying to hide it from me."
He put his arm round her waist and made her sit on his knee.
"Nothing is the matter with me," he said, with an
uneasy laugh.
"What have you got in
your hand? A letter?"
"Yes. Addressed to you and not opened yet." He took it out of her
hand, and threw it
carelessly on a sofa near him. "Never mind
that now! Let us talk." He paused, and kissed her, before he went
on. "My
darling, I think you must be getting tired of Vange?"