This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be sure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Ba.s.sett, and enraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's neck, and cried, "Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman in England, and now I know it."

"Well, well, well," said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, "Did I ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set up your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox.

Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the best, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Ba.s.sett will turn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her; you are a shrewd girl."

"My daughter will not go till she is asked," said Mrs. Ba.s.sett, firmly.

"In that case," said Richard, dryly, "let us hope the Lord will protect you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den."

No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words of faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism.

Mrs. Ba.s.sett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall.

After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where Lady Ba.s.sett was lying on a sofa.

Lady Ba.s.sett heard her coming, and rose to receive her.

She made Mrs. Ba.s.sett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Ba.s.sett changed her style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, and gentle amity, not overdone.

Mrs. Ba.s.sett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill.

"You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?" faltered Lady Ba.s.sett.

"Yes," gulped Mrs. Ba.s.sett.

Then there was another long pause.

"Oh, Lady Ba.s.sett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us both."

"It will kill one of us."

"Not if I can help it."

"G.o.d bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage."

"Why should you take the blame?" said Mrs. Ba.s.sett. "We have both been good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a husband's commands and G.o.d's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor woman."

"It is, indeed."

Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Ba.s.sett broke it, with some hesitation. "I hope, Lady Ba.s.sett, your present illness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from my husband?"

"Oh, Mrs. Ba.s.sett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provoke him? Mr. Reginald Ba.s.sett has returned, and you know he once gave your husband cause for just resentment."

"Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace."

"Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to ask too much at once."

"I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Ba.s.sett."

"No, bring her."

"Then tell me your hour."

"Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to myself."

While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Ba.s.sett, being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual skill upon her young mind.

He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage.

He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, and requested her to receive him graciously.

She promised that at once.

"That," said he, "will be a much better match for you than the younger son of Sir Charles Ba.s.sett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a family where she is not welcome."

"Much too proud for that," said Ruperta.

He left her smarting under that suggestion.

While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Ba.s.sett came home.

She was in raptures with Lady Ba.s.sett, and told her daughter all that had pa.s.sed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Ba.s.sett to take her to Huntercombe to-morrow.

"Me, dear!" cried Ruperta; "why, what can she want of me?"

"All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my opinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Ba.s.sett."

"Is she very ill?"

Mrs. Ba.s.sett shook her head. "She is much changed. She says she should be better if we were all at peace; but I don't know."

"Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow."

They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Ba.s.sett received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and womanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a moment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to turn to the daughter, and to say, "May I hope, Miss Ba.s.sett, that you are on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?"

"I am," said Ruperta, firmly; "I always was--especially after that beautiful sermon, you know, mamma."

Says the proud mother, "You might tell Lady Ba.s.sett you think it is your mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles."

"Mamma!" said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. "If you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me very presumptuous."

"No, no," said Lady Ba.s.sett, "enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth."

"I am glad you think so, Lady Ba.s.sett; for people who have no enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me."

"And so they are," said Lady Ba.s.sett warmly.

But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I can only present the general result. Lady Ba.s.sett thought Ruperta a beautiful and n.o.ble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and Ruperta was charmed by Lady Ba.s.sett's exquisite manners, and touched and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had pa.s.sed between them, that Lady Ba.s.sett ventured on the subject she had at heart. "My dear," said she to Ruperta, "when I first saw you, I wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear."