Soon Coventry was heard returning. Jean listened with suspended breath
to catch his first words, for he was not alone.
"Since you insist that it was you and not your mistress, I let it pass,
although I still have my suspicions. Tell Miss Beaufort I desire to see
her for a few moments in the library. Now go, Dean, and be careful for
the future, if you wish to stay in my house."
The maid retired, and the young man came in looking both ireful
and stern.
"I wish I had said nothing, but I was startled, and spoke involuntarily.
Now you are angry, and I have made fresh trouble for poor Miss Lucia.
Forgive me as I forgive her, and let it pass. I have learned to bear
this surveillance, and pity her causeless jealousy," said Jean, with a
self-reproachful air.
"I will forgive the dishonorable act, but I cannot forget it, and I
intend to put a stop to it. I am not betrothed to my cousin, as I told
you once, but you, like all the rest, seem bent on believing that I am.
Hitherto I have cared too little about the matter to settle it, but now
I shall prove beyond all doubt that I am free."
As he uttered the last word, Coventry cast on Jean a look that affected
her strangely. She grew pale, her work dropped on her lap, and her eyes
rose to his, with an eager, questioning expression, which slowly changed
to one of mingled pain and pity, as she turned her face away, murmuring
in a tone of tender sorrow, "Poor Lucia, who will comfort her?"
For a moment Coventry stood silent, as if weighing some fateful purpose
in his mind. As Jean's rapt sigh of compassion reached his ear, he had
echoed it within himself, and half repented of his resolution; then his
eye rested on the girl before him looking so lonely in her sweet
sympathy for another that his heart yearned toward her. Sudden fire shot
into his eye, sudden warmth replaced the cold sternness of his face, and
his steady voice faltered suddenly, as he said, very low, yet very
earnestly, "Jean, I have tried to love her, but I cannot. Ought I to
deceive her, and make myself miserable to please my family?"
"She is beautiful and good, and loves you tenderly; is there no hope for
her?" asked Jean, still pale, but very quiet, though she held one hand
against her heart, as if to still or hide its rapid beating.
"None," answered Coventry.
"But can you not learn to love her? Your will is strong, and most men
would not find it a hard task."
"I cannot, for something stronger than my own will controls me."