"A crumb of comfort will satisfy him, miss. I'll just tell him that
I've seen you, and that you meant nothing by what you said the other
day; and--"
"Mrs. Skene," said Lydia, interrupting her softly; "tell him nothing
at all as yet. I have made up my mind at last. If he does not hear
from me within a fortnight you may tell him what you please. Can you
wait so long?"
"Of course. Whatever you wish, ma'am. But Mellish's benefit is to be
to-morrow night; and--"
"What have I to do with Mellish or his benefit?"
Mrs. Skene, abashed, murmured apologetically that she was only
wishful that the boy should do himself credit.
"If he is to benefit Mellish by beating somebody, he will not be
behindhand. Remember you are not to mention me for a fortnight. Is
that a bargain?"
"Whatever you wish, ma'am," repeated Mrs. Skene, hardly satisfied.
But Lydia gave her no further comfort; so she begged to take her
leave, expressing a hope that things would turn out to the advantage
of all parties. Then Lydia insisted on her partaking of some solid
refreshment, and afterwards drove her to the railway station in the
pony-carriage. Just before they parted Lydia, suddenly recurring to
their former subject, said, "Does Mr. Byron ever THINK?"
"Think!" said Mrs. Skene emphatically. "Never. There isn't a more
cheerful lad in existence, miss."
Then Mrs. Skene was carried away to London, wondering whether it
could be quite right for a young lady to live in a gorgeous castle
without any elder of her own sex, and to speak freely and civilly to
her inferiors. When she got home she said nothing of her excursion
to Mr. Skene, in whose disposition valor so entirely took the place
of discretion that he had never been known to keep a secret except
as to the whereabouts of a projected fight. But she sat up late with
her daughter Fanny, tantalizing her by accounts of the splendor of
the castle, and consoling her by describing Miss Carew as a slight
creature with red hair and no figure (Fanny having jet black hair,
fine arms, and being one of Cashel's most proficient pupils).
"All the same, Fan," added Mrs. Skene, as she took her candlestick
at two in the morning, "if it comes off, Cashel will never be master
in his own house."
"I can see that very plain," said Fanny; "but if respectable
professional people are not good enough for him, he will have only
himself to thank if he gets himself looked down upon by empty-headed
swells."