"That was a sad affair," remarked Sir Aubrey.

"Yes; we will not discuss it. I only mention it to warn you as to admitting the love of any woman into your heart, for you can never drive it away again."

That day, after the gentlemen had entered the drawing-room, Sir Aubrey went up to Lady Dartelle. She was both proud and fond of her handsome son, who as a rule could do pretty much as he liked with her.

"Mother," he said, "why does not little Clara come down sometimes?"

"She can come, my dear Aubrey, whenever you wish," was the smiling reply.

"And her governess--what has she done that she is never asked to play and sing?"

At the mention of the word "governess" Lady Dartelle became suspicious.

"He has seen her," she thought, "and has found out how pretty she is."

"One of our arrangements," she said aloud, "was that Clara's governess was not to be asked into the drawing-room when we had visitors."

"Why not?" inquired the baronet, carelessly.

"My dear boy, it would not be prudent; and it would displease your sisters very much, and perhaps interfere with their plans and wishes."

"Being a very pretty--nay, a most lovely girl, she is to be punished for her beauty, then, by being shut out of all society?"

"How do you know she is beautiful?" asked Lady Dartelle. "Do not speak too loudly, my dear; your sisters may hear you."

"I saw her the other morning on the sh.o.r.e, and I tell you honestly, mother, I think her the most beautiful girl I have ever seen; and she is as good as she is beautiful."

"How do you know that?" asked Lady Dartelle a little anxiously.

"Because she told me quite frankly that you did not wish her to be in the way of visitors, and because she has kept out of my way ever since."

"She is a prudent girl," said Lady Dartelle. "Aubrey, my dear, I know how weak young men are in the matter of beauty. Do not try to get up a flirtation with her. Your sisters do not like her very much; and if there should be anything of what I have mentioned, I shall be obliged to send her away at once. Your own good sense will tell you that."

"My sisters are--what are they?" returned Sir Aubrey, indignantly; "all women are jealous of each other, I suppose."

"Aubrey," said Lady Dartelle, thinking it advisable to change the subject of conversation, "tell me whether you think either Veronica or Mildred has any chance of succeeding with Lord Chandon?"

"Not the least in the world, I should say," he replied, "I fancied when he came down that he would take a little consolation; now I know there is not the least chance."

"Why not?" inquired his mother.

"Because of his love for that brave girl, Miss Vaughan, he will never care for any one else while he lives."

Lady Dartelle's face fell considerably.

"I thought he fancied her dead," she observed.

"So he does; and so she must be; or, with all the search that has been made for her, she would have been found."

"But, Aubrey, if she were living, and he did find her, do you really think that he would marry her?"

"Indeed he would, mother. Were she alive he would marry her to-morrow, if he could."

"After that terrible _expose_?" cried Lady Dartelle.

"There was nothing terrible in it," he opposed. "The worst thing the girl did was to half-elope with one of the best _partis_ in England. If she had completed the elopement, every one would have admired her, and she would have been received at once amongst the spotless band of English matrons. The very truth and sincerity with which the girl told her story enn.o.bled her in the eyes of every sensible person."

"Well," said Lady Dartelle, with a sigh, "if you really think, my dear, that there is no chance of his liking either of the girls, I should not ask him to prolong his visit." Lady Dartelle hardly liked the hearty laughter with which her son received her words.

"I will remember, mother," he said. "Will it console you to know that Sir Richard told me yesterday that he never saw such a perfectly-shaped hand as Mildred's?"

"Did he? Mildred likes him, I think. It would be such a comfort to me, Aubrey, if one or the other were married."

"While there's life there's hope. Here comes Major Elton to remind me of my engagement to play a billiard match. Good-night, mother."

But after a few days the good-natured baronet returned to the charge, and begged hard that Clara might be allowed to go to Broughton Park to see the swans. He thought, as a matter of course, that the governess would go with her, but, to make sure, he added: "Be good-natured for once, mother, and let the governess go. I promise neither to speak to her nor to look at her."

But the next morning when the carriage came round, and little Clara, flushed with excitement, took her seat by Lady Dartelle's side, Sir Aubrey looked in vain for the lovely face and graceful figure. He went to the side of the carriage.

"Mother," he said in a low voice, "where is Miss--I do not even know her name--the governess?"

"My dear Aubrey," replied Lady Dartelle, "the governess is fortunately a very sensible young woman, and when I mentioned the matter to her, she positively and resolutely declined to come. I quite approve of her resolution. I have no doubt that she will greatly enjoy a day to herself."

They little dreamed what this day was to bring forth. They were to lunch and dine at Broughton Park, and then drive home in the evening. Veronica was in the highest spirits, for Lord Chandon, declining to ride, had taken his seat in the carriage.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

"A day to myself," said the young governess, as she heard the carriage drive away. "I have not been alone for so long, and I have so much to think of."

A great silence had fallen over the house; there was no sound of laughing voices, no busy tread of feet, no murmur of conversation; the silence seemed strange after the late gayety and noise. At first a great temptation came over her to roam through the rooms and seek out the traces of Adrian's presence. She might see the books he had been reading, the papers he had touched. She remembered how precious at Bergheim everything seemed to her that he had ever used. It was a great temptation, but she resisted it. She would not disturb the calm that had fallen on her.

"It is of no use," she said to herself, "to open my old wounds. I will go out, and then, if the temptation comes to me again, I cannot yield to it. I will go down to the sh.o.r.e and read; there is no one to interrupt me to-day."

She found a volume that pleased her; and then, book in hand, she walked through the woods and down to the sh.o.r.e, where the restless waves were chanting their grand old anthem. It was only the middle of April, but the day was warm and bright; the sun shone on the blue heaving sea. She sat down under the shelter of a huge bowlder and opened her book, but the beautiful eyes soon wandered from the printed pages; a fairer and far more wonderful volume lay open before her. The place where she sat was so retired and solitary that it seemed as though she were alone in the world. She gave herself up entirely to thought. Past and present were all mingled in one long dream.

It was too delightful to be alone, the luxury was so great. She gave a sigh of unutterable relief. Presently the hat she wore incommoded her; she took it off and laid it on the sands. In removing it she disarranged the brown plaits which Mrs. Chalmers had thought such a success. With impatient fingers she removed them, and the graceful head appeared in all its beauty of cl.u.s.tering hair--golden waves of indescribable loveliness. She laughed as the wind played among them.

"I am my own self again," she said; "and I may be myself for a few minutes without any one seeing me."

The wind that stirred the cl.u.s.tering hair had brightened her eyes and brought the most exquisite bloom to her face.

She began to think of Adrian, and forgot all about the brown plaits; she was living over and over again those happy days at Bergheim. She was recalling his looks and words, every one of which was impressed on her heart. She had forgotten even where she was; the song of the sea had lulled her into a half-waking dream; she forgot that she was sitting there--forgot the whole world--all save Adrian--when she was suddenly startled by a shadow falling between herself and the sunshine, while a voice, half frightened, half wondering, cried out, in tones she never forgot:

"Miss Vaughan!"