Part 65

"Very well," I said, and got up from my chair.

"Oh," exclaimed Emily, "don't go. If you have anything to say to Ellaline, which you'd like to say to her alone, let me go. I am getting sleepy, and was just thinking about bed. Perhaps I might say good-night to you both?"

"Good-night, dear," answered Sir Lionel. I had never heard him call her that before.

"Say good-night to Mrs. Senter for me," went on Emily to us both.

"Yes," said Sir Lionel. But I don't think he had heard.

Mrs. Norton swished silkily out. The door shut. I braced myself, and looked up at him. His eyes were on my face, and they were full of light. I supposed it must be righteous anger; but it was a beautiful look--too good to waste on such a passion, even a righteous form of it.

"You poor child," he said in a low voice, standing quite near me. "You have gone through a great deal."

I started as if he had shot me--that way of beginning was so different from anything I had expected.

"Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered.

"That I always knew you were brave, but that you're a hundred times braver than I thought you. Dick has come back. He has brought with him a girl and a man from Scotland--bride and groom."

All the strength went out of me. I felt as if my body had turned to liquid and left only my brain burning, and my heart throbbing. But I didn't fall. I fancy I caught the back of a tall chair, and held on for dear life.

"Ellaline," I murmured.

"Yes, Ellaline," he said. "Thank God, you are not Ellaline."

"Thank God?" I echoed in weak wonder.

"I thank God, yes, because it was killing me to believe that you were Ellaline--to believe you false, and frivolous, and a flirt, just because of the blood I thought you had in your veins. And I exaggerated everything you did, till I made a mountain out of each fancied fault. That fellow Burden brought Ellaline here--just married to her Frenchman to-day--because he wanted to ruin you. He told me with pride how he'd ferretted out the whole secret--traced you to your address in Versailles, learned your real name--told everything, in fact, except that he'd been blackmailing you, forcing you for your friend's sake to actions you hated. He didn't tell me that part, naturally, but there was no need, because I guessed----"

"What--what have you done to him?" The words came limping, because of the look in his eyes, which shot forth a sword.

"Oh, unluckily it's under my own roof, so I could do no more than bid him clear out if he didn't want to be kicked out!"

"Gone!" I whispered.

"Yes, gone. And as Mrs. Senter's very loyal to her nephew, she prefers to leave with him, though she has had nothing to do with his plottings--didn't even know, and I asked her to stay. She insists on going to-night when he does. I'm sorry. But it can't be helped. I cannot think of her now."

"Ellaline----" I began faintly; but he cut me short, with a kind of generous impatience. "Yes, yes, you shall see her. She wants to see you, now that she understands, but----"

"Understands?"

"Why, you see, that little beast, Dick Burden--whose mother's staying near where Ellaline was in Scotland--went there straight from Bamborough, and put the girl up to believe you'd been playing her false--prejudicing me against her interests, trying to keep for yourself things that ought to be hers; so apparently she worked herself into a hysterical state--must have, or she wouldn't have believed him against you; and the instant she was married to her Frenchman, who'd come to claim her, all three dashed off here to 'confront' you, as that cad Burden explained to me. I couldn't understand what they were all driving at just at first, but I saw that the girl was the living image of her mother, consequently the thing didn't need as much explaining in any way as it might otherwise."

"She was horribly afraid you wouldn't let her marry him," I broke in, getting breath and voice back at last.

"So she said. Oh, when she knew Burden had lied to her about you, she repented her disloyalty, and told me how you hated the whole thing. I don't wonder she thought me a brute, never writing, never seeming to care whether she was alive or dead; I see now I was a brute; but it's you who've shown me that, not she. However, she will reap the benefit. I daresay three months ago I should have growled over such a marriage, felt inclined to wash my hands of the girl, perhaps, but now--now I'm delighted to have her married and--off my hands. That sounds callous, but I can't help it. It's true. The Frenchman seems a gentleman, and fond of her--trust Ellaline de Nesville's daughter to make men fall in love!--and I wish them both joy."

"But--but if he's poor?" I dared to question.

"Oh, that'll be all right. I'm so thankful for the way everything has turned out, I'd give her half my fortune. That would be asinine, of course; but I shall settle a thousand a year on her for life, and give her a wedding present of a cheque for twenty thousand, I think. Should you say that would be enough to satisfy them?"

"They ought to be distracted with joy," I said (though deep in my heart I knew that Ellaline is never likely to be satisfied with anything done for her. She always feels it might have been a little more). "But," I went on, "maybe it's selfish to think of myself now--but I can't help it for a moment. I have been so ashamed--so humiliated, I could hardly bear--and yet I know you won't, you can't, see that there's any excuse----"

"Didn't I tell you that I thought you very brave?" he asked, looking at me more kindly than I deserved.