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George's days of unalloyed idleness were also ended, for the Roman Catholic priest was now a resident in the house as the little boy's tutor, besides teaching 'Henriette the rudiments, and instructing her in her mother's religion. Denzil told them even of the guests he had met at the Abbey; but of the master of the house his lips spoke not, till Sir John questioned him. "And Fareham?
"I am sorry I have not Papillon's courage," she said. "Tu m'as donne une affreuse peur je te croyais morte," muttered Fareham, letting his arms drop like lead as she released herself from their support. Denzil and Henriette were close to them. They had come to the open door for fresh air, after the charnel-like chill and closeness of the small underground chamber.
There was no answering warmth on Philaster's part, no fire of passion to scathe and destroy; only a gentle gratitude for the girl's devotion a brother's, not a lover's regard. She found Fareham and her sister in the hall, ready to step into the coach.
Fareham paused on the threshold of the gallery, watching her, and then went slowly back, bent down to take the hand that had dropped at her side, and pressed his lips upon it, silently, respectfully, with a kind of homage that had become strange of late years to Barbara Palmer.
His days were passed chiefly in attendance upon Lady Fareham singing and playing, fetching and carrying combing her favourite spaniel with the same ivory pocket-comb that arranged his own waterfall curls; or reading a French romance to her, or teaching her the newest game of cards, or the last dancing-step imported from Fontainebleau or St.
"Are you related to the Miss Newcome, Lady Anne Newcome's daughter? Her cousin? She will be here to-night." Very likely Lady Fareham did not see Clive wince and blush at this announcement, her ladyship having to occupy herself with a thousand other people. Clive found a dozen of his Roman friends in the room, ladies young and middle-aged, plain and handsome, all glad to see his kind face.
It was but the beginning of that stupendous destruction, yet it was already great enough to seem like the end of all things. "And last night, in the Court theatre, Killigrew's players were making a jest of a pestilence that filled the grave-pits by thousands," Fareham muttered, as if awaking from a dream. "Well, the wits will have a new subject for their mirth London in flames."
She left the church quietly and hurried westward, guided chiefly by the sun, till she found herself once more in the Strand; and very soon afterwards she was ringing the bell at the chief entrance of Fareham House.
If I am to do anything for this stuck-up peacock, Lady Fareham must give me the order. I am no servant of Madame Kirkland." Alone in the garden, the sisters embraced again, Lady Fareham with a fretful tearfulness, as of one whose over strung nerves were on the verge of hysteria. "There is something that preys upon your spirits, dearest," Angela said interrogatively. "Something! A hundred things.
Adorers she had and to spare, toadeaters and flatterers, a regiment of mercenaries; but these all wanted something of her kisses, smiles, influence, money. Disinterested respect was new. "I thought you were a Puritan, Lord Fareham." "I am a man; and I know what it is to suffer the hell-fire of jealousy." "Jealousy, yes! I never was good at hiding my feelings. He treats me shamefully.
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