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If as I hope you have thought better of it by then and decide to remain, nothing further need be said. Will that satisfy you?" Bertrand wheeled abruptly, and stood facing him, the length of the room intervening. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak, but he said nothing whatever. Mordaunt turned without further words to the letter in his hand, and studied it in silence.
"He did not know," she said. She would not have given such an explanation of her own volition at that moment, but since upon this point she could not tell him the truth it was simpler to let it pass. What did it matter, after all? Let him think her a thief also if he would! She was past caring what he thought. "And when do you expect to meet again?" Mordaunt asked, with great distinctness.
"As Herman Mordaunt is your mother's cousin, I suppose, Dirck," I resumed, "that you have been at Lilacsbush, and ascertained whether the inside of the house is as pleasant and respectable as the outside." "Often, Corny; while Madam Mordaunt lived, my mother and I used to go there every summer. The poor lady is now dead, but I go there still."
He did not look altogether pleased, but Noel was quite unimpressed. "Oh, goodness knows!" he said lightly. "She has my I O U's." "Which she must find very satisfying," remarked Mordaunt. "Now look here, boy! There must be no more of this. You will have to keep within your allowance in future." "My dear chap, it's all jolly fine I can't!" protested Noel.
Remains only the last consideration, birth. Mrs. Braefield informs me that you have assured her that, though circumstances into which as yet I have no right to inquire, have made her the ward of a man of humble origin, Miss Mordaunt is of gentle birth. Do you deny that?" "No," said Mrs. Cameron, hesitating, but with a flash of pride in her eyes as she went on. "No.
"Even Cinders knows me better than that." "Cinders ought to know you better than anyone," remarked Mordaunt. "His opportunities are unlimited." She laughed somewhat dubiously. "I knew you would think me horrid as soon as you began to see more of me." He laughed also at that.
In conversation of this nature, which the sincerity and lofty enthusiasm of Mordaunt rendered interesting to Clarence, despite the distaste to the serious so ordinary to youth, the hours passed on, till the increasing evening warned Linden to depart. "Adieu!" said he to Mordaunt.
Persevering, steady, crafty, and possessing, to an eminent degree, that happy art of "canting" which opens the readiest way to character and consequence, the rise and reputation of Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt appeared less to be wondered at than envied; yet, even envy was only for those who could not look beyond the surface of things. He was at heart an anxious and unhappy man.
"Stop," cried Athos, extending his hand to one of the grated windows by which the room was lighted; "you will soon know what to expect, for here he is." "Who?" "Mordaunt." In fact, looking at the place to which Athos pointed, D'Artagnan saw a cavalier coming toward the house at full gallop. It was Mordaunt. D'Artagnan rushed out of the room. Porthos wanted to follow him.
"You won't, will you?" "Not if there is really no reason for it," he said. She stirred restlessly. "There isn't indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night." "And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt. She started a little. "Who told you that?" "Noel." "Oh! Well, nothing happened, thanks to to Bertie. He put it out for me."
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