Lord Almeric continued to vapour and romance as he mounted the stairs.
Mr. Pomeroy attended, sneering, at his heels. The tutor followed, and
longed to separate them. He had his fears for the one and of the other,
and was relieved when his lordship at the last moment hung back, and
with a foolish chuckle proposed a plan that did more honour to his
vanity than his taste.
'Hist!' he whispered. 'Do you two stop outside a minute, and you'll hear
how kind she'll be to me! I'll leave the door ajar, and then in a minute
do you come in and roast her! Lord, 'twill be as good as a play!' Mr. Pomeroy shrugged his shoulders. 'As you please,' he growled. 'But I
have known a man go to shear and be shorn!' Lord Almeric smiled loftily, and waiting for no more, winked to them,
turned the handle of the door, and simpered in.
Had Mr. Thomasson entered with him, the tutor would have seen at a
glance that he had wasted his fears; and that whatever trouble
threatened brooded in a different quarter. The girl, her face a blaze of
excitement and shame and eagerness, stood in the recess of the farther
window seat, as far from the door as she could go; her attitude the
attitude of one driven into a corner. And from that alone her lover
should have taken warning. But Lord Almeric saw nothing, feared nothing.
Crying 'Most lovely Julia!' he tripped forward to embrace her, and, the
wine emboldening him, was about to clasp her in his arms, when she
checked him by a gesture unmistakable even by a man in his
flustered state.
'My lord,' she said hurriedly, yet in a tone of pleading--and her head
hung a little, and her cheeks began to flame. 'I ask your forgiveness
for having sent for you. Alas, I have also to ask your forgiveness for a
more serious fault. One--one which you may find it less easy to pardon,'
she added, her courage failing.
'Try me!' the little beau answered with ardour; and he struck an
attitude. 'What would I not forgive to the loveliest of her sex?' And
under cover of his words he made a second attempt to come within
reach of her.
She waved him back. 'No!' she said. 'You do not understand me.' 'Understand?' he cried effusively. 'I understand enough to--but why, my
Chloe, these alarms, this bashfulness? Sure,' he spouted, 'How can I see you, and not love,
While you as Opening East are fair?
While cold as Northern Blasts you prove,
How can I love and not despair?' And then, in wonder at his own readiness, 'S'help me! that's uncommon
clever of me,' he said. 'But when a man is in love with the most
beautiful of her sex--' 'My lord!' she cried, stamping the floor in her impatience. 'I have
something serious to say to you. Must I ask you to return to me at
another time? Or will you be good enough to listen to me now?' 'Sho, if you wish it, child,' he said lightly, taking out his snuff-box.
'And to be sure there is time enough. But between us two, sweet--' 'There is nothing between us!' she cried, impetuously snatching at the
word. 'That is what I wanted to tell you. I made a mistake when I said
that there should be. I was mad; I was wicked, if you like. Do you hear
me, my lord?' she continued passionately. 'It was a mistake. I did not
know what I was doing. And, now I do understand, I take it back.' Lord Almeric gasped. He heard the words, but the meaning seemed
incredible, inconceivable; the misfortune, if he heard aright, was too
terrible; the humiliation too overwhelming! He had brought
listeners--and for this! 'Understand?' he cried, looking at her in a
confused, chap-fallen way. 'Hang me if I do understand! You don't mean
to say--Oh, it is impossible, stuff me! it is. You don't mean that--that
you'll not have me? After all that has come and gone, ma'am?' She shook her head; pitying him, blaming herself, for the plight in
which she had placed him. 'I sent for you, my lord,' she said humbly,
'that I might tell you at once. I could not rest until I had told you. I
did what I could. And, believe me, I am very, very sorry.' 'But do you mean--that you--you jilt me?' he cried, still fighting off
the dreadful truth.