Duchess

“ Why on earth did you not take my advice?" exclaims Cyril, in a distracted tone. A woman's grief, a woman's tears, always unman him.
"Don't say you told me how it would be," murmurs Lilian, with a ghastly attempt at a smile that dies away in another moan. "It would be adding insult to injury. No, do not stir me: do not; I cannot bear it. Oh, Cyril, I think my ankle is broken."
With this she grows a little paler, and draws her breath with a sharp sound, then whiter, whiter still, until at last her head sinks heavily upon Cyril's supporting arm, and he finds she has fallen into a deep swoon. ”

“ And Sir Guy drives away full of his ward's fresh girlish loveliness, her slender lissome figure, her laughing face, the thousand tantalizing graces that go to make her what she is; forgetful of Miss Beauchamp's more matured charms,—her white gown,—her honeyed words,—everything.
All day long Lilian's image follows him. It is beside him in the crowded street, enters his club with him, haunts him in his business, laughs at him in his most serious moods; while she, at home, scarce thinks of him at all, or at the most vaguely, though when at five he does return she is the first to greet him. ”

“ A moment later Lilian is made aware of it by the fact of Archibald's rising and going down deliberately on his knees before her.
"It can scarcely be news to you to tell you I love you," says he, eagerly. "Lilian, will you marry me?"
"What are you saying?" says Miss Chesney, half frightened, half amused: "you must be going mad! Do get up, Archie: you cannot think how ridiculous you look."
"Tell me you will marry me," entreats that young man, unmoved even by the fact of his appearing grotesque in the eyes of his beloved. ”

“ Finding Lady Chetwoode and Cyril already before her, she summons all her grace to her aid and tries to look ashamed of herself.
"Am I late?" she asks, going up to Lady Chetwoode and giving her a little caress as a good-morning. Her very touch is so gentle and childish and loving that it sinks straight into the deepest recesses of one's heart.
"No. Don't be alarmed. I have only just come down myself. You will soon find us out to be some of the laziest people alive."
"I am glad of it: I like lazy people," says Lilian; "all the rest seem to turn their lives into one great worry." ”

“ To him she is a mystery, a lovely riddle yet unsolved; but with his arm round her, and her face so near his own, he is conscious of feeling an irrepressible gladness. A thrill of happiness, the only touch of it he has known for many days, fills his heart, while with it is a bitter regret that chills it at its birth.
The carriage rattles over some unusually large stone, and Lilian awakes. At first an excessive sense of drowsiness dulls her perception, and then, all at once, it flashes across her mind that she has been asleep, and that now she is encircled, supported by Guy's arm. ”

“ Sir Guy laughs, and subsides into a chair. Miss Beauchamp shrugs her shapely shoulders and indulges in a smile suggestive of pity.
"I begin to feel outrageously jealous of this unknown Taffy," says Cyril. "I never knew you in such good spirits before. Do you always laugh when you are happy?"
"'Much laughter covers many tears,'" returns Lilian, gayly. "Yes, I am very happy,—so happy that I think a little would make me cry."
"Oh, don't," says Cyril, entreatingly; "if you begin I'm safe to follow suit, and weeping violently always makes me ill."
"I can readily believe it," says Miss Chesney. ”

“ At this moment Guy, who is not dancing, happens to saunter up, and lean against the curtains of the window close to their hiding-place, totally unconscious of their presence. From where she is sitting Lilian can distinctly see him, herself unseen. He looks moody, and is evidently enchanted with the flavor of his blonde moustache. He is scarcely noticeable from where he stands, so that when two men come leisurely up to the very mouth of the retreat, and dispose of themselves luxuriously by leaning all their weight upon the frail pillars against which the curtains hang, they do not perceive him. ”

“ Miss Chesney finishes her peach in a hurry and prepares to follow him.
"Lilian, you are like a baby with a sweet tooth," says Lady Chetwoode. "Take some of those peaches out on the balcony with you, child: you seem to enjoy them. And come to me to the drawing-room when you tire of Cyril."
So the last thing Guy sees as he leaves the room is Lilian and his brother armed with peaches and cigars on their way to the balcony; the last thing he hears is a clear, sweet, ringing laugh that echoes through the house and falls like molten lead upon his heart. ”

“ Have you noticed, Miss Chesney, Lady Chetwoode's greatest failing? It is that she will not see a fault in any one."
"She never mentioned your faults, at all events," Lilian answers, smiling.
"I hope your baby is quite well?" Florence asks, calmly, who is far too well bred ever to forget her manners.
"The darling child,—yes,—I hope she is well," Lady Chetwoode says, hastily, feeling as though she has been guilty of unkindness in not asking for the baby before. Miss Beauchamp possesses to perfection that most unhappy knack of placing people in the wrong position. ”

“ Sir Guy is about to make an eager reply, when Miss Beauchamp interposes.
"I always give Guy his breakfast when he goes to London," she says, calmly yet hastily.
"Check!" says Cyril, at this instant, with his eyes on the board. "My dear Musgrave, what a false move!—a fatal delay. Don't you know bold play generally wins?"
"Sometimes it loses," retorts Taffy, innocently; which reply, to his surprise, appears to cause Mr. Chetwoode infinite amusement.
"Whenever you do go," says Lilian to Sir Guy, "don't forget my sweetmeats: I shall be dreaming of them until I see you again. ”

“ Lilian's eyes are fastened upon, literally bound to, a little sprig of myrtle that lies among the ill-fated flowers at her feet. Not until many days have passed can she again look upon a myrtle spray without feeling a nervous beating at her heart; she is oppressed with fear; she has at this moment but one longing, and that is to escape. A conviction that her longing is a vain one only adds to her discomfiture; she lacks the courage to lift her head and encounter the eyes she knows are fixed upon her. ”

“ The conclusion of his thought causes Cyril an unaccountable pang, that startles even himself. In five minutes—in five short minutes—surely no woman's eyes, however lovely, could have wrought much mischief; and yet—and yet—what was there about her to haunt one so?
He rouses himself with an effort and refuses to answer his own question. Is he a love-sick boy, to fancy himself enthralled by each new pretty face he sees? Are there only one laughing mouth and one pair of deep gray eyes in the world? What a fool one can be at times! ”

“ Outside everything is bright, and warm, and genial, as should be in the heart of summer; within there is only gloom,—and Lilian clad in her mourning robes. The contrast is dispiriting: there life, here death, or at least the knowledge of it. There joy, here the signs and trappings of woe.
The black gown and funereal trimmings hardly harmonize with the girl's flower-like face and the gay song that trembles on her lips. But, alas! for how short a time does our first keen sorrow last! how swiftly are our dead forgotten! how seldom does grief kill! ”

“ I really think we owe a debt of gratitude to this very unpleasant husband."
"Florence," cries Lady Chetwoode, with vehement reproach, stung to the quick, "how can you see cause for rejoicing in the poor boy's misery! Do you not think of him?" After which she subsides again, with an audible sob, into her cambric. But Lilian is not so easily satisfied.
"How dare you speak so?" she says, turning upon Florence with wet eyes that flash fire through their tears. "You are a cold and heartless woman. How should you understand what he is feeling,—poor, poor Cyril!" ”

“ Now—being late in the season—the blossom is more scarce, though still the air is heavy with delicate perfume, and the eyes grow drunk with gazing on the beauty of the autumn flowers. Through them goes Lilian, with Archibald gladly following.
All day long he has had her to himself, and she has been so good to him, so evidently pleased and contented with his society alone, that within his breast an earnest hope has risen, so strongly, that he only waits a fitting opportunity to lay his heart and fortune at her feet. ”

“ As she wanders through the garden, inhaling its earliest perfumes, and with her own heart throbbing rather tumultuously as she dreams again of each tender word and look that passed between her and Guy last night, a great longing and gladness is hers; at this moment the beauty and sweetness of life, all the joy to be found everywhere for those who, with a thankful spirit, seek for it, makes itself felt within her. ”

“ What if, in a moment of pride and rage, she should have really gone with her cousin! If—it is impossible! ridiculously, utterly impossible! Yet his blood grows cold in spite of his would-be disbelief; a sickening shiver runs through his veins even while he tells himself he is a fool even to imagine such a thing. And yet, where is she?
"I suppose Lilian is at Mabel Steyne's," says Miss Beauchamp, calmly, having demolished the last bit on her plate with a deep sigh.
"Is she?" asks Guy, in a tone half stifled. As he speaks, he stoops as though to pick up an imaginary napkin. ”

“ Guy makes no reply, but, stepping on to the balcony outside, walks listlessly away, his heart in a tumult of fear and regret, while Miss Beauchamp, calmly, and with a certain triumph, goes on contentedly with her work. A nail in Lilian's coffin has, she hopes, been driven, and sews her hopes into the canvas beneath her hand, as long ago the Parisian women knitted their terrible revenge and cruel longings into their children's socks, whilst all the flower and beauty and chivalry of France fell beneath the fatal guillotine. ”

“ Therefore I liken him to an elderly gentleman, because I adore old men. You see, Guardy?" with an indescribably fascinating air, that has a suspicion of sauciness only calculated to heighten its charm.
"I should think he is old in reality to you," says Florence: "you are such a child."
"I am," says Lilian, agreeably, though secretly annoyed at the other's slighting tone. "I like it. There is nothing so good as youth. I should like to be eighteen always. But for my babyish ways and utter hopelessness, I feel positive Sir Guy would have beaten me long ago. ”

“ When seven long uneventful days have passed away, every one at Chetwoode is ready to acknowledge that the coming of Lilian Chesney is an occurrence for which they ought to be devoutly thankful. She is a boon, a blessing, a merry sunbeam, darting hither and thither about the old place, lighting up the shadows, dancing through the dark rooms, casting a little of her own inborn joyousness upon all that comes within her reach. ”

“ Not Cyril, surely?"
"Oh, no, not Cyril."
Their voices involuntarily have sunk a little, and, though any one near can still hear distinctly, they have all the appearance of people carrying on a private conversation.
"Guy?"
Lilian is silent. Guy's face, as he still strokes the dog dreamily, has grown haughty in the extreme. He, like Mabel, awaits her answer.
"What?" says Mrs. Steyne, in an amused tone, evidently treating the whole matter as a mere jest. "So you are not a pet with Guy! How horrible! I cannot believe it. Surely Guy is not so ungallant as to have conceived a dislike for you? ”

“ The men spend half their days wondering if it will be a good hunting-season, the women are wrapt in delicious dreams of fur and velvet.
At The Cottage all the roses have fluttered into their graves, but in their place a sweet flower has bloomed. Cecilia's eyes have grown brighter, gladder, her step firmer, her cheek richer in the tint that rivals the peach. In her calm home she has but one thought, one hope, and that is Cyril. She has forbidden him to mention their engagement to Lady Chetwoode, so as yet the sweet secret is all their own. ”

“ I can't bear cross people: they are always saying unpleasant as well as unmeaning things. New faces, indeed! I really wish Archibald would come; he is always agreeable, and never starts distasteful topics. Ah, here he is! Archie, how long you have been! I thought you were never coming! Sir Guy is in one of his terrible moods, and has frightened me out of my life. I was in danger of being lectured off the face of the earth. No woman should be pitied but she that has a guardian! You have come to my rescue barely in time: another minute, and you would have found only a lifeless Lilian. ”

“ When Lady Chetwoode, who is sitting in the drawing-room, hears the carriage draw up to the door, she straightens herself in her chair, smoothes down the folds of her black velvet gown with rather nervous fingers, and prepares for an unpleasant surprise. She hears Cyril's voice in the hall inquiring where his mother is, and, rising to her feet, she makes ready to receive her new ward.
She has put on what she fondly hopes is a particularly gracious air, but which is in reality a palpable mixture of fear and uncertainty. ”

“ Upon the balcony looking down upon them sits Florence, working at the everlasting parrot, with Guy beside her, utterly miserable, his whole attention concentrated upon his ward. For the past week he has been wretched as a man can be who sees a rival well received before his eyes day after day. Miss Beauchamp's soft speeches and tender glances, although many and pronounced, fail to console him, though to others he appears to accept them willingly enough, and to make a generous return, spending—how, he hardly knows, though perhaps she does—a good deal of time in her society. ”

“ Sir Guy, will you?" asks Lilian, plaintively, prompted by some curious impulse, seeing him silent, handsome, moody in the background. A moment later she could have killed herself for putting the question to him.
"Guy always drives me," says Florence, calmly: "I never go with any one else, except in the carriage with Aunt Anne. I am nervous, and should be miserable with any one I could not quite trust. Careless driving terrifies me. But Guy is never careless," turning upon Chetwoode a face she fondly hopes is full of feeling, but which unfortunately is suggestive of nothing but a midge's bite. ”

“ Oh! it is intolerable!
"You are quite right," she says sweetly to Florence, even producing a smile for the occasion, as women will when their hearts are sorest. "There is nothing so depressing as nervousness when driving. Perhaps Archibald will take pity upon me. Archie!" calling out to him, "come here. I want you to do me a great favor,"—with an enchanting smile. "Would it be putting you out dreadfully if I asked you to drive me to Mrs. Boileau's to-morrow evening?"—another smile still more enchanting. ”

“ He might perhaps have continued it until now, did not Lilian see fit to wither his mirth in the bud.
"Is it a cause for laughter?" she asks, wrathfully; "but it is just like you! I don't believe you have an atom of feeling. Positively I think you would laugh if auntie, who is almost a mother to you, was dead!"
"No, I should not," declares Archibald, subsiding from amusement to the very lowest depths of sulk: "pardon me for contradicting you, but I should not even smile were Lady Chetwoode dead. She is perhaps the one woman in the world whose death would cause me unutterable sorrow." ”

“ The rain is beating regularly, persistently, against the window-panes; there is no hope of wandering afield this evening. A sullen summer shower, without a smile in it, is deluging gardens and lawns, tender flowers and graveled walks, and is blotting out angrily all the glories of the landscape.
It is half-past four o'clock. Lady Chetwoode is sitting in the library reclining in the coziest arm-chair the room contains, with her knitting as usual in her hands. She disdains all newer, lighter modes of passing the time, and knits diligently all day long for her poor. ”

“ So Heskett departs, much exercised in mind, and in the lowest spirits, being full of vague doubts, yet with a keen consciousness that by his promise to Miss Chesney he has forfeited his dearest joy, and that from him the glory of life has departed. No more poaching, no more snaring, no more midnight excursions fraught with delicious danger: how is he to get on in future, with nothing to murder but time? ”

“ The hounds are going at a tremendous pace; a good many horses show signs of flagging; while the brave old fox still holds well his own.
Taffy came to signal grief half an hour ago, but now reappears triumphant and unplucked, splashed from head to heel, but game for any amount still. Mrs. Steyne in front a-fighting hard for the brush, while Lilian every moment is creeping closer to her on the bonny brown mare that carries her like a bird over hedges and rails. Sir Guy is out of sight, having just vanished down the slope of the hill, only to reappear again a second later. ”