“Lady Jane did not explain. She called me in, told me I could not remain, and that she wished me to depart at once. I could not quit the house without telling you, Lord Oakburn, and—and—if you please—giving you my address. I shall go to my father’s.”
“Shiver my timbers if you shall go out of my house in this way!” stormed the earl, striking his stick on the table. “My Lady Jane’s a cool hand when she chooses, I know; but you have a right to proper warning.”
Miss Lethwait extended her hand, and exhibited the money in its palm.
“Lady Jane has not forgotten to give me the warning’s substitute,” she said, with a proud, bitter smile.
“Then hark you, my dear! I am the house’s master, and I’ll let my lady know that I am. You shall not———”
“Stay, Lord Oakburn—I beg your pardon,” she interrupted. I could not remain in the house in defiance of Lady Jane. You have not thought, perhaps, how impossible it would be for one in my subordinate capacity to enter the lists of opposition against her. Indeed it could not be.”
Lord Oakburn growled. But he made no answer. Possibly the good sense of the argument was forcing itself upon him.
“You belong to me now,” he presently said. “I won’t have you turned out like this.”
“I shall be happier at home,” she resumed. “In any case, I must have left shortly, if—if—I mean,” she broke off, stammering and hesitating, for she did not like openly to allude to her new prospects until they were more assured “I must have left your roof before———”
“Before you’re-enter it as my wife,” interposed the earl, calming down. “Be it so. I don’t know but you are right. And when you do enter it, it will be your turn, you know, to cock-pit it over my Lady Jane.”
Miss Lethwait felt that Lady Jane was not one to allow her or anybody else to “cock-pit” it over her; and a dark shade seemed to rise up in her mind and shadow forth a troubled future. A question from Lord Oakburn interrupted its gloom.
“When shall you be ready?”
“In an hour’s time,” she answered. “I have not much luggage to put up.”
“Not for leaving here,” cried the earl, correcting her mistake somewhat hotly. “When shall you be ready for the splicing?”
“For the splicing?” she faltered.
“For the marriage. Don’t you understand? In a week?”
“Oh, Lord Oakham! Putting other and weightier considerations aside, I could not be ready in a week.”
“What are the weighty considerations?”
The—the seemliness—the fitness of things,” she answered, growing rather nervous. “My preparations would take me some weeks, Lord Oakburn.”
“Preparations take some weeks!” echoed the earl, opening his eyes in astonishment. “What, for a wedding? I never heard of such a thing. Why, I could fit out my sea-chest in a day for a three-years’ cruise! What d’ye mean, Miss Lethwait?”
Miss Lethwait did not feel equal to disputing the outfitting point with him. All that could be settled later. She gave him her father’s address at his country vicarage, Twifford; and Lord Oakburn told her he should be at it almost as soon as she was.
“Then, now that I have told you, will hasten my departure,” she said, turning to put aside the velvet curtain for her exit. “Lady Jane will not be pleased if I linger. Fare you well, Lord Oakburn.”
“Yes, I suppose it’s better that you should go,” acquiesced the earl. “I don’t mean to tell her, you see, until it’s done and over. Just come close, my dear.”
She went up to him. She supposed he had something particular to say to her; some direction to tender.
“Just give me a kiss.”
The gallant peer had not risen, and she would have to stoop to his up-turned face. It was certainly reversing the general order of such things. For a single moment her whole spirit rose up in rebellion; the next, she had bent her face passively to his.
With his single kiss upon her lips, with the red blood dyeing her brow, with a choking sob of emotion, she went from his presence and ascended to her chamber. Lucy ran out from the adjoining one ere she could enter it. The child, who had grown fond of her governess in spite of the dreadful German exercises, threw her arms round her.
“Oh, was it not a charming party! I wish we could have one every night! And how good you are, Miss Lethwait, to give me holiday to-day. What are you going to do?”
“Lucy, dear, the holiday is not of my giving. I am going from you. I am not to teach you any longer. I shall have departed in an hour’s time.”
“What’s that for?” exclaimed Lucy, in very astonishment.
And then, and not until then, did it recur to Miss Lethwait’s remembrance that Lady Jane had desired her not to see Lucy before she left. The request had brought its sting to Miss Lethwait: had her ladyship feared she would contaminate the child?—but she had