"I am careful, sir, I am careful, very; I do not think--I trust--there have been no losses, not even small ones. I do my best to secure your interests."

"Well, I believe you. You keep up the appearances, I hope? Never forget to tell people that you are only a subordinate, that you are acting for others and strictly on the instructions given to you by them. The more you a.s.sert it the more they'll think it a falsehood. Keep it up, Harker, and then, well, you know I keep my promises. By the way, how is the little Lucy?"

As he spoke the name, half scornfully, half indifferently, a visible change came over his tool and puppet. His face became paler, if that were possible, his head seemed to drop, his whole figure was expressive of deepest dejection, fear, supplication.

"Well, sir, quite well, and deeply grateful for your kindness," he said, wetting his dry lips.

"Ah! and so she should be, young hussey. A fine thing for her. Married and respectable. If that soft-hearted, simple little husband of hers knew all I know! Strange that I should have dropped on to her and that first lover of hers down in that quiet place. Strange, wasn't it? Now I daresay they thought they were as safe as at the bottom of the sea.

Didn't think that Mr. Jasper Vermont, a friend of the family, could be staying at the same hotel. He ought to have married her, of course.

Better that he didn't, eh? Yet that weak, amiable grocer, innocent and unsuspecting, lets her have it all her own way, and believes her just a little purer and whiter than the angels. Clever little thing, Lucy.

Makes him think she loves him, I daresay."

"My poor child loves her husband better than her own life, sir,"

breathed the father. "She is so happy, they love each other so, and she is my own flesh and blood. Forget that accursed night and the devil that led her astray. Forget that she is anything but the wife of an honest man. Have mercy on her, sir."

"Well, Harker, I will; I am all mercy. Do your duty by me and I won't go down to tell the story of that night to Lucy's good, trusting husband.

But don't ask me to forget, my good fellow, for that's folly. I never forget!"

"Thank you, sir, thank you," Harker said, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I will do my duty and work day and night in your interests, if you will only spare my child and keep others from knowing of that one false step."

Mr. Jasper Vermont leaned back in his chair, and regarded his servant's agitation with quiet amus.e.m.e.nt for a few minutes; then he gathered all the papers together, put them away in his desk, and dismissed Mr. Harker with a nod, saying:

"You can go now. Don't forget the Leroy paper, renew Beaumont, but sell up that artist scamp to the last stick and stone. Parasites can bite as well as cling, Mr. Wilson."

CHAPTER XIV

The afternoon following the race the Castle guests returned to town, Lord Standon amongst them, and as that light-hearted gentleman departed without making any formal proposal for the hand of his young ward, Lord Barminster was greatly puzzled.

All that day he had watched Lady Constance with an unceasing vigilance, of which, fortunately, she was unaware; but he could detect no traces of affection in her intercourse with Lord Standon, nor could he find any reason for his son's despair. Like a wise man, however, he made no reference whatever to the conversation of the preceding night, for which Adrien was exceedingly grateful, as he felt ashamed of having exposed his real feelings, even to his father.

Instead, therefore, Lord Barminster endeavoured to find out the true state of the case from his sister Penelope.

That lady, disturbed from her afternoon slumber, was inclined to be testy. As far as she was concerned, she was very much against the idea of Constance marrying any one, for the girl's presence saved her a great deal of trouble in many ways; the consultations with the housekeeper, the choosing of books, the writing of invitations, these and a hundred other trifles which in the event of Constance's marriage would be shifted back on to her own shoulders.

Naturally, therefore, she considered the suitor who would be less likely to inconvenience her; and he, of course, was Adrien. For if he married Constance, there would be, at least, some time during the year in which she would be at Barminster, and leave Miss Penelope free to resume the novel reading of which she was so inordinately fond. She scoffed, therefore, at any likelihood of Lord Standon's suit, and flatly refused to believe a word of it.

Meanwhile, Adrien was in a state of restless excitement, for which he himself could scarcely account, and accordingly he determined to return to London next day.

That night they were a family party of four, and Lady Constance noticed that her guardian's manner was considerably more cheerful than was its wont, and that during dinner he glanced with even more affection than usual at the handsome face of his only son. Afterwards, when the old man had returned to his own apartments, Adrien found his cousin in the silver drawing-room, with Miss Penelope. The latter had taken up her latest novel, and was devouring it with rapt attention.

Lady Constance, with a smile, beckoned to her cousin and made room for him beside her on the Chesterfield. He sank down with a sigh of content.

"You leave us to-morrow then?" she began, in a tone of calm inquiry.

He was filled with an insane longing to seize her in his arms, and cover her face with kisses; but he restrained himself, though he bent nearer to her as he said in a low voice:

"Yes, I am going back to try and put my affairs in better order. My father has been pulling me up--quite rightly, of course. I ought to have seen to these things before. I am afraid I have not been a good son to him."

"You do not see him very often, do you?" said Lady Constance, who knew to a day how often Adrien had visited the Castle during the last twelve months, during which she herself had sighed for his absence.

"No," he admitted. "I always seem to have so many engagements; but now I am going to try a new mode of life--thanks to your words."

"My words?" echoed Lady Constance, in genuine surprise. "I thought you said uncle had been speaking to you."

"Yes," he agreed. "But it was what you said to me during our ride that decided me really--about the tenants, and all that."

"You must not listen to all my complaints," she said, smilingly. "I am proud of the Barminster estates, naturally; and I cannot bear that they should be inferior to those of our neighbour----"

"Who is that?" he inquired quickly.

"Why, Lord Standon, of course," was the calm reply.

He started at the sound of the name of one he deemed his rival. The jealous blood rushed to his face and his heart beat fast.

"Naturally," he said, in tones as quiet as he could make them, "you would compare all estates with his--_now!_"

With womanly intuition she saw his meaning, but did not choose to dispel his suspicions just then. Not that she was a coquette or flirt, for she loved this man with all the strength of her being; but, on the other hand, she knew, or thought she knew, his disposition only too well, and she feared to yield to her natural inclinations, which were to allow him to see that he had only to speak, and she was ready and willing to listen. Instead, therefore, she merely said lightly:

"Yes, he makes a good landlord, for all he declares to the contrary.

Then, too, he has a capable agent."

"Like Jasper," put in her companion, trying to keep his eyes away from her pretty, vivacious face.

Lady Constance was silent. However much she might dislike and distrust Vermont, she never expressed her opinion of him to Adrien. She therefore turned the subject quickly by inquiring after the next race.

"'The Brigades'--in two months' time," he replied.

"The 'King' will run, I suppose?" she asked.

"Yes, and I shall ride him," said Adrien quietly. "After an accident such as has occurred, none shall ride him save myself; then if anything should happen----"

"Ah! no! no!" cried Lady Constance, her face paling, and her blue eyes full of alarm; "you mustn't!--you shan't!" She stopped short. "I mean,"

she went on, speaking more quietly, "you must think what it would be--to your father--and auntie----"

"And you," he said eagerly, catching at her hands. "Would you care, too?"

She gently drew her fingers from his grasp.

"Of course I should," she replied, in her usual quiet tones. "Am I not a sort of cousin?"

"Constance," he broke in pa.s.sionately, "I have no right to speak to you, I know; but tell me just this, if--if----"

Alas! for Adrien. Alas! for poor Lady Constance. The book in Miss Penelope's hand had slid quickly from her grasp, as she sat dozing near the fire-place. At this, the most critical moment, it came with a sudden crash to the floor, and Miss Penelope opened her eyes, and sat up briskly.