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Toplady regard me as a contemptible plagiarist?" "It is probable that she has formed conclusions." Lashmar's eyes fell. He saw that Constance was watching him. In the turmoil of his feelings all he could do was to jerk out an impatient laugh. "It's no use," he exclaimed. "You and I have come to a deadlock. We no longer understand each other.
"We'll have an afternoon presently. Ask Mrs. Toplady to introduce Mr. Roach he dines with us on the 27th." To make sure of the M. P., Lashmar invited him verbally, and received a dreamy acceptance so dreamy that he resolved to send a note, to remind Mr. Roach of the engagement. "So you are to be one of us, at Mr. Lashmar's dinner," said the hostess to Mrs. Woolstan.
"But suppose," suggested May, with some uneasiness, "that he knew about that French book?" "Oh, my dear, we can't suppose that! Besides, we haven't read the book. It may really be quite different in its tendency from Mr. Lashmar's view." "I don't see how it can be, Mrs. Toplady. Judging from those quotations, and the article, it's Mr. Lashmar from beginning to end."
It would have been much simpler and better to say at once that you had changed your mind. Can you for a moment expect me to believe that this argument really justifies you in breaking your promise?" "I assure you," replied Constance, also in a soft undertone, "it is much sounder reasoning than that by which you excuse your philosophical plagiarism." Lashmar's eyes wandered.
He strolled awhile about the village, glancing over the pamphlet with its report of last year's business at the mill, and the local improvements consequent upon it, then returned on foot to Hollingford, where he arrived with an excellent appetite for dinner. Wind and rain interfered with Lashmar's project for the early morning.
Lashmar's face beamed as he recognised each trait. Breakspeare, the while, regarded him with half-closed eyes in which twinkled a world of humour. "A little too generous, I'm afraid," Dyce remarked at length, thoughtfully. "Not a bit of it!" cried the editor, scratching the tip of his nose, where he had somehow caught a spot of ink. "Bald facts; honest portraiture. It doesn't displease you?"
Had he been refused by May? Or had something come to pass which made it impossible for him to offer marriage something connected with Lashmar's early visit this morning? That he had intended a proposal, Constance could not doubt. Meanwhile, she felt glad of the outbreak in prospect; her mood desired tumultuous circumstances.
Again I am come to ask your help, and again it involves heroism on your part." The listener's face grew troubled; her lips lost their suavity. Lashmar's eyes fell before her look. "I feel ashamed," he went on, with an uneasy movement of his hands. "It's too bad to expect so much of you. You have more pride than most people, yet I behave to you as if you didn't know the meaning of the word.
That afternoon, when an hour or two of sleep had somewhat restored her, Lady Ogram sketched several letters for her secretary to write. Pausing at length, she looked at Miss Bride, and, for the first time, addressed her by her personal name. "Constance " The other responded with a pleased and gratified smile. "From Mr. Lashmar's talk of him, what sort of idea have you formed of Lord Dymchurch?"
For that I toil; for that I sacrifice leisure and tranquillity and most of the things dear to a man philosophically inclined. Was there a twinkle in the editor's eye as it met Lashmar's smile? Constance was watching him with unnaturally staid countenance, and her glance ran round the table. "I'm only afraid," said Lady Ogram, "that he won't stand again."
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