"We could not have had the wedding sooner, father," said Sue.

"I suppose not; but another three weeks of Paul--though I'm not saying a word against Paul, mind you;--only, the truth is, I have to be so confoundedly careful before him, that it's--it's a strain."

He had indeed been milder and more amicable in every-day life of late, than any one could ever remember him before.

"I like the fellow;" he now mused aloud; "he treats me as I ought to be treated--not as that young a.s.s Purcell does. Val licks my boots and hates me: but Paul has a nice, cheerful, respectful way----"

"Oh, he has all the virtues, no doubt,"--but Leo's mocking interpolation was overborne by her father's steady tones--"We talk, and he doesn't browbeat me. You may look at each other, but I know how a gentleman should behave among gentlemen. When people are polite to me, I am polite to them. And as I know that Paul has his foibles, religious foibles, I am on my guard; while as for him, he never thrusts them on my notice.

There was that day that I saw him coming across the park before breakfast, and guessed where he had been--at the early service, of course,--well, all I said when we met in the hall was, 'You must have had a nice walk?' There's tact for you. From that day to this, neither of us has ever remarked upon it."

"It was such a sneaking, shocking thing to do," said Leo, ironically.

"Eh? What? 'Pon my soul, child, that was more like Maud than you.

Sneaking? Shocking? It was the sort of thing a gentleman does _quietly_, that's all; and it would have been in the worst possible taste to have taken any notice of what was not meant to be known."

He resumed his paper, and his daughters left the room together.

"I am sorry, Leo, that you don't like Paul," said Sue, as the door closed. She had felt for some time that she must say it, and if possible fathom to what was due a sense of tension in the air. "It is strange,"

continued she, "for to me and to the rest of us he appears so very lovable. Have you--what is it you find--you feel--you dislike in him, dear?"

"I find--I feel--I dislike in him--nothing. He is nothing to me. Why should my opinion be of any consequence about him?"

"You speak in such a hard voice, Leo. And you look so hard and unsympathetic whenever Paul is mentioned. Can't you tell me--you might surely tell _me_----?"

"I wish _you_ would tell _me_ when he departs? One gets tired of people in the state Paul is in, that's all."

"Are you a little--envious, dear Leo? Such happiness----"

"Yes, that's it. Such happiness--Maud is welcome to it," cried Leo, with a laugh. "Very welcome, most welcome; but it's all the parade, the flutter--however, it will soon be over, thank Heaven!"--she subjoined under her breath.

No more was to be got out of her, and Sue, baffled and repelled, went her way.

She was conscious, however, of a sense of relief when the very same afternoon Paul's departure for a season was announced. He had arranged for this without consulting any one; but Maud was satisfied that business demanded his presence in London, and that there were also a few old friends to whom as a bachelor he wished to bid farewell.

It did not appear very clearly where these friends lived, and indeed an exacting _fiancee_ might have found the brief announcement vague and unsatisfactory, but Maud's feelings were thus conveyed to her own people in private: "Paul has so much sense of what is proper and correct, that it really amounts to an intuition. I daresay he has an idea that when there is so much for me to attend to, it is better that I should be free to give myself up to it. Certainly it is a little distracting to have to remember he is waiting for a walk or ride, when one's head is in a whirl with other things."

Once she had asked Leo to take the walk instead of her--she did not do it again. Leo, with blazing eyes, declined point-blank.

"Take your man off your hands? Not I. If you're tired of him----"

"Good gracious, child, what do you mean? What things you do say? I _am_ tired, as it happens--but not of Paul. I have been standing for hours trying on dresses, and I am not such a walker as you at any time. You are forever going out. One would have thought you would be glad of a companion."

"I might be glad of a companion--but not of Paul," retorted Leo, mimicking. "He is your Paul, not mine, and I--and we----" her lips trembled and framed no more.

"You might oblige me, I think,"--but Sue touched the speaker's arm, and Leo vanished.

"What is it?" demanded Maud, irritably. "That child is quite spoilt of late. It's since her London visit, I think. She never was like that before."

"Sometimes I think, I fancy she is not quite well." Sue gathered up some papers on the table, and proceeded. "You know what Dr. Craig said? That she was in a morbid state, artificially excited or depressed, her mind preying upon itself. He said she must be taken where her natural impulses would have freer vent----"

"Well, well; we all know what he said; you told us at the time."

"I thought she was cured, but it seems not," said Sue, in a low voice.

"And your engagement has somehow----"

"If it's _that_, of course--but do you think it really is that?" said Maud, not without a touch of complacency. "If it is that, of course I am sorry. But at first she seemed as pleased as anybody. It was only after she saw Paul--and one would have thought that Paul--I can't understand why any one should dislike Paul."

Sue was silent.

"Paul has not offended her, has he? Has she ever said so?"

"Never. Oh, never. One can't fancy Paul offending anybody," said Sue, with a smile.

"I told him all about Leo before he came here--but he made me repeat it after he had seen her, and I know--I am sure he felt for her. Well, I shan't ask Leo to walk with him again, that's certain;"--and only half appeased she went to make ready herself.

Leo, however, had not always escaped a _tete-a-tete_ with the person she was thus bent on avoiding. She had seen him one evening in the lower garden, and hoping she was herself unseen, had escaped into the vineries, which, however, had afforded but a poor shelter, the branches being nearly bare of leaf. Paul had seen some one within as he pa.s.sed the window, and entered also.

It was not till he had done so, and shut the door after him, that he discovered whose solitude it was he had invaded, and then it was too late to retreat. He could only offer his a.s.sistance in what she was doing--gathering the crimson vine leaves which fluttered here and there--and with his stick hook down those out of reach. Then all of a sudden a heavy autumn shower rattled upon the gla.s.s roof overhead, and there was nothing for it, for the two thus caught and trapped, but to wait till it was over.

They sat down on the low staging, and at first they hardly spoke.

But presently Leo grew frightened; the long, intimate silences startled her. Suppose Paul--? No, of course not that,--but he might think her odd and rude, and even seek some sort of explanation? She started talking hurriedly, and it was nearly an hour before the sky cleared.

Thereafter Leo knew what she had to expect should she and Paul be thrown together. She had gradually felt her defences giving way, her voice had grown low and sweet, and much that was hidden in the depths of her inner being, had welled up and overflowed into his listening ear. All along she had known this would happen once the barriers were down between her and Paul Foster; even when she sought to belittle him to herself at the outset, she had a terrible underlying consciousness of it,--and looking back upon the hour, feeling over again the fragrant warmth of the atmosphere, hearing the splashing of the rain, and smelling the bitter scent of the vines, she laid her head upon her arms and cried as if her heart would break.

But we know how Maud's request was met, and how one person at Boldero Abbey would fain with her own voice have bidden Maud's lover begone from it for ever.

Other voices, real voices, however, with one accord bewailed his departure when it came.

Even the general, secretly relieved, was punctiliously regretful on the surface.

"We shall soon see our gentleman back again," he observed in his best manner, "and I hope we shall often have nice long visits from you both in time to come, my dear;" addressing his bereaved daughter in accents of gracious consolation. "For myself I can never see Paul too often.

But, hum--ha, no doubt at present he has done the right thing in attending to business before pleasure. Has he got any more houses in view?"

This was a subject on which he would always dilate, and it was discussed at all points as the meal proceeded. The general was unusually cheerful, as all remembered afterwards, and it was not till dessert was on the table that his spirits suddenly flagged. No, he did not want any wine; he was pettish when it was remarked that his gla.s.s was empty. Were they going to sit on forever? Well, then, why did no one rise? He would lead the way himself.

"I don't care to stay behind when I have no one to talk to," he pushed back his chair, but not far enough. "Give me an arm, one of you. Steady there--you needn't haul me along. Stop, I tell you." It was Leo's arm he held--she was the nearest to him--and he leaned upon it heavily.

He also breathed heavily. When she tried to draw him forward he tottered. His daughters looked at one another.

"Let me get you something, father?" said Sue, moving towards the sideboard;--"a little brandy?"--and with a tremulous hand she poured it out, and held it to his lips.

At the same time she gently withdrew Leo's arm, subst.i.tuting her own, and Leo made no resistance. Their father looked them dazed--but the brandy momentarily revived him.

"I--suppose I go to bed, eh? I'm tired--that's what's the matter with me. Isn't that what's the matter with me, Sue? I'm tired--tired,"--his head sank upon his breast. "Tired--tired!" he muttered.

"Do not lose a moment, Maud;" said Sue, aside.