Have I not heard that your brother Stephen was the next heir to
the title? Will he not be the new lord? Never mind answering me!
We won't
dispute whether I mn right or wrong in turning
governess--
we will wait the event. I am weary of my
lonelyuselessexistence here,
and eager to make my life more happy and more useful, in the household
of all others in which I should like most to have a place.
If you will look again, you will see that I have these personal
considerations still to urge before I finish my letter.
You don't know your brother and his wife as well as I do, if you doubt
their answer. I believe they have courage enough and heart enough to
say Yes.'
Henry submitted without being convinced.
He was a man who disliked all
eccentric departures from custom and routine;
and he felt especially
suspicious of the change proposed in the life
of Agnes. With new interests to occupy her mind, she might be less
favourably disposed to listen to him, on the next occasion when
he urged his suit. The influence of the '
lonelyuselessexistence'
of which she complained, was
distinctly an influence in his favour.
While her heart was empty, her heart was accessible.
But with his nieces in full possession of it, the clouds of doubt
overshadowed his prospects. He knew the sex well enough to keep
these
purelyselfish perplexities to himself. The
waitingpolicy was
especially the
policy to
pursue with a woman as
sensitive as Agnes.
If he once
offended her
delicacy he was lost. For the moment he wisely
controlled himself and changed the subject.
'My little niece's letter has had an effect,' he said,
'which the child never contemplated in
writing it. She has just
reminded me of one of the objects that I had in
calling on you to-day.'
Agnes looked at the child's letter. 'How does Lucy do that?'
she asked.
'Lucy's
governess is not the only lucky person who has had money
left her,' Henry answered. 'Is your old nurse in the house?'
'You don't mean to say that nurse has got a
legacy?'
'She has got a hundred pounds. Send for her, Agnes, while I show
you the letter.'
He took a
handful of letters from his pocket, and looked through them,
while Agnes rang the bell. Returning to him, she noticed a printed
letter among the rest, which lay open on the table. It was a
'prospectus,' and the title of it was 'Palace Hotel Company of Venice
(Limited).' The two words, 'Palace' and 'Venice,'
instantly recalled
her mind to the
unwelcome visit of Lady Montbarry. 'What is that?'
she asked, pointing to the title.
Henry suspended his search, and glanced at the prospectus.
'A really
promisingspeculation,' he said. 'Large hotels always
pay well, if they are well managed. I know the man who is appointed
to be
manager of this hotel when it is opened to the public;
and I have such entire confidence in him that I have become one of
the shareholders of the Company.'
The reply did not appear to satisfy Agnes. 'Why is the hotel
called the "Palace Hotel"?' she inquired.
Henry looked at her, and at once penetrated her
motive for asking
the question. 'Yes,' he said, 'it is the palace that Montbarry
hired at Venice; and it has been purchased by the Company to be
changed into an hotel.'
Agnes turned away in silence, and took a chair at the farther
end of the room. Henry had disappointed her. His
income as a
younger son stood in need, as she well knew, of all the additions
that he could make to it by successful
speculation. But she was
unreasonable enough,
nevertheless, to
disapprove of his attempting
to make money already out of the house in which his brother had died.
Incapable of understanding this
purelysentimental view of a plain
matter of business, Henry returned to his papers, in some perplexity
at the sudden change in the manner of Agnes towards him.
Just as he found the letter of which he was in search, the nurse
made her appearance. He glanced at Agnes, expecting that she would
speak first. She never even looked up when the nurse came in.
It was left to Henry to tell the old woman why the bell had summoned her
to the drawing-room.
'Well, nurse,' he said, 'you have had a windfall of luck.
You have had a
legacy left you of a hundred pounds.'
The nurse showed no
outward signs of
exultation. She waited a little
to get the
announcement of the
legacy well settled in her mind--
and then she said quietly, 'Master Henry, who gives me that money,
if you please?'
'My late brother, Lord Montbarry, gives it to you.' (Agnes
instantlylooked up, interested in the matter for the first time. Henry went on.)