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Once in the roadway, and Copsley visible, she checked her arrowy pace for breath, and almost commiserated the dejected wretch in her thankfulness to him for silence. Nothing exonerated him, but at least he had the grace not to beg secresy. That would have been an intolerable whine of a poltroon, adding to her humiliation. He abstained; he stood at her mercy without appealing.
Diana remained in London. Lady Dunstane wrote entreating her to pass the month her favourite time of the violet yielding to the cowslip at Copsley.
Gratitude to the person soothing his unwontedly ruffled temper was the cause of the indiscretion in the amount he gave. It appeared to him that he ought to proceed to Copsley for tidings of Lady Dunstane. Thither he sped by the handy railway and a timely train. He reached the parkgates at three in the afternoon, telling his flyman to wait.
The answer was: 'I have; all I possess. And Redworth for a sharp instant set his eyes on Diana, indifferent to Sir Lukin's bellow of stupefaction at such gambling on the part of a prudent fellow. He asked her where she was to be met, where written to, during the Summer, in case of his wishing to send her news. She replied: 'Copsley will be the surest.
He naturally supposed she was capable of conducting her affairs. And money! It soiled his memory: though the hour at Rovio was rather pretty, and the scene at Copsley touching: other times also, short glimpses of the woman, were taking. The flood of her treachery effaced them. And why reflect? Constance called to him to look her way. Diana's letter died hard.
Here, she confessed to Diana, she would wish to live to her end. It seemed remote, where an invigorating upper air gave new bloom to her cheeks; but she kept one secret from her friend. Copsley was an estate of nearly twelve hundred acres, extending across the ridge of the hills to the slopes North and South.
She had her ideas, of course, from that fellow Redworth, an occasional visitor at Copsley; and a man might be a donkey and think what he pleased, since he had a vocabulary to back his opinions. A woman, Sir Lukin held, was by nature a mute in politics.
Evidently he had railways on the brain, and Sir Lukin warned his wife to be guarded against the speculative mania, and advise the man, if she could. On the Saturday of his appointment Redworth arrived at Copsley, with a shade deeper of the calculating look under his thick brows, habitual to him latterly.
The answer was: 'I have; all I possess. And Redworth for a sharp instant set his eyes on Diana, indifferent to Sir Lukin's bellow of stupefaction at such gambling on the part of a prudent fellow. He asked her where she was to be met, where written to, during the Summer, in case of his wishing to send her news. She replied: 'Copsley will be the surest.
Dresses were left at Copsley for dining and sleeping there upon occasion, and poor Danvers, despairing over the riddle of her mistress, was condemned to the melancholy descent. 'It's my belief, she confided to Lady Dunstane's maid Bartlett, 'she'll hate men all her life after that Mr. Dacier.
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