"You needn't take him unless you like him."

"They do make me so miserable!" And then she leaned heavily upon his arm. He was a man who could not stand such pressure as this without returning it. Though he were on the precipice, and though he must go over, still he could not stand it. "You remember that night after the ball?"

"Indeed I do."

"And you too had asked me whether I cared for that horrid man."

"I didn't see anything horrid. You had been staying at his house and people had told me. What was I to think?"

"You ought to have known what to think. There; let me go,"--for now he had got his arm round her waist. "You don't care for me a bit. I know you don't. It would be all the same to you whom I married;--or whether I died."

"You don't think that, Bella?" He fancied that he had heard her mother call her Bella, and that the name was softer and easier than the full four syllables. It was at any rate something for her to have gained.

"I do think it. When I came here on purpose to have a skurry over the country with you, you went away to Holcombe Cross though you could have hunted here, close in the neighbourhood. And now you tell me there will be a frost to-morrow."

"Can I help that, darling?"

"Darling! I ain't your darling. You don't care a bit for me. I believe you hope there'll be a frost." He pressed her tighter, but laughed as he did so. It was evidently a joke to him;--a pleasant joke no doubt. "Leave me alone, Lord Rufford. I won't let you, for I know you don't love me." Very suddenly he did leave his hold of her and stood erect with his hands in his pockets, for the rustle of a dress was heard. It was still daylight, but the light was dim and the last morsel of the grandeur of the sun had ceased to be visible through the trees. The church-going people had been released, and the d.u.c.h.ess having probably heard certain tidings, had herself come to take a walk in the shrubbery behind the conservatory. Arabella had probably been unaware that she and her companion by a turn in the walks were being brought back towards the iron gate. As it was they met the d.u.c.h.ess face to face.

Lord Rufford had spoken the truth when he had said that he was a little afraid of the d.u.c.h.ess. Such was his fear that at the moment he hardly knew what he was to say. Arabella had boasted when she had declared that she was not at all afraid of her aunt;--but she was steadfastly minded that she would not be cowed by her fears. She had known beforehand that she would have occasion for much presence of mind, and was prepared to exercise it at a moment's notice. She was the first to speak. "Is that you, aunt? you are out of church very soon."

"Lord Rufford," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "I don't think this is a proper time for walking out."

"Don't you, d.u.c.h.ess? The air is very nice."

"It is becoming dark and my niece had better return to the house with me. Arabella, you can come this way. It is just as short as the other. If you go on straight, Lord Rufford, it will take you to the house." Of course Lord Rufford went on straight and of course Arabella had to turn with her aunt. "Such conduct as this is shocking," began the d.u.c.h.ess.

"Aunt, let me tell you."

"What can you tell me?"

"I can tell you a great deal if you will let me. Of course I am quite prepared to own that I did not intend to tell you anything."

"I can well believe that."

"Because I could hardly hope for your sympathy. You have never liked me."

"You have no right to say that."

"I don't do it in the way of finding fault. I don't know why you should. But I have been too much afraid of you to tell you my secrets. I must do so now because you have found me walking with Lord Rufford. I could not otherwise excuse myself."

"Is he engaged to marry you?"

"He has asked me."

"No!"

"But he has, aunt. You must be a little patient and let me tell it you all. Mamma did make up an engagement between me and Mr. Morton at Washington."

"Did you know Lord Rufford then?"

"I knew him, but did not think he was behaving quite well. It is very hard sometimes to know what a man means. I was angry when I went to Washington. He has told me since that he loves me,--and has offered."

"But you are engaged to marry the other man."

"Nothing on earth shall make me marry Mr. Morton. Mamma did it, and mamma now has very nearly broken it off because she says he is very shabby about money. Indeed it is broken off. I had told him so even before Lord Rufford had proposed to me."

"When did he propose and where?"

"At Rufford. We were staying there in November."

"And you asked to come here that you might meet him?"

"Just so. Was that strange? Where could I be better pleased to meet him than in my own uncle's house?"

"Yes;--if you had told us all this before."

"Perhaps I ought; but you are so severe, that I did not dare. Do not turn against me now. My uncle could not but like that his niece should marry Lord Rufford."

"How can I turn against you if it is settled? Lord Rufford can do as he pleases. Has he told your father,--or your mother?"

"Mamma knows it."

"But not from him?" asked the d.u.c.h.ess.

Arabella paused a moment but hardly a moment before she answered. It was hard upon her that she should have to make up her mind on matters of such importance with so little time for consideration. "Yes," she said; "mamma knows it from him. Papa is so very indifferent about everything that Lord Rufford has not spoken to him."

"If so, it will be best that the Duke should speak to him."

There was another pause, but hardly long enough to attract notice.

"Perhaps so," she said;--"but not quite yet. He is so peculiar, so touchy. The Duke is not quite like my father and he would think himself suspected."

"I cannot imagine that if he is in earnest."

"That is because you do not know him as I do. Only think where I should be if I were to lose him!"

"Lose him!"

"Oh, aunt, now that you know it I do hope that you will be my friend.

It would kill me if he were to throw me over."

"But why should he throw you over if he proposed to you only last month?"

"He might do it if he thought that he were interfered with. Of course I should like my uncle to speak to him, but not quite immediately. If he were to say that he had changed his mind, what could I do, or what could my uncle do?"

"That would be very singular conduct."

"Men are so different now, aunt. They give themselves so much more lat.i.tude. A man has only to say that he has changed his mind and nothing ever comes of it."