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Tell Lady Maude the candid truth, and take shame and blame to yourself, as you deserve. Her having known of the engagement to Miss Ashton renders your task the easier." Very restless was Lord Hartledon until the moment came. He knew the best time to speak to Maude would be immediately after dinner, whilst the countess-dowager took her usual nap.
He gave no answer; but the countess-dowager made up for his silence. Her temper, none of the mildest, had been considerably exasperated by the visit of the fox-hunters; it was made worse by the arrival of Mr. Carr. When she turned and saw what this formidable interruption was, she lost it altogether, as few, calling themselves gentlewomen, can lose it. As she peered into the face of Dr.
A different result showed itself equally caused by excitement and the countess-dowager arrived in a day or two in hot haste. Lady Hartledon lay in bed, and did not attempt to get up or to get better. She lay almost as one without life, taking no notice of any one, turning her head from her husband when he entered, refusing to answer her mother, keeping the children away from the room.
Should this have been the case, I must be distasteful to her still; an encumbrance she may wish to get rid of." The countess-dowager had overshot her mark, and saw it. "Oh well! Perhaps I was mistaken about the past," she said, staring at him very hard, and in a sort of defiance. "Maude was always very close. If you said anything about separation now, I dare say it would kill her.
For the past but Lord Hartledon rose up now with a start. There was one item of that past he dared not glance at, which did not, however, relate to Miss Ashton: and it appeared inclined to thrust itself prominently forward to-night. Could Lord Hartledon have borrowed somewhat of the easy indifference of the countess-dowager, he had been a happier man.
She turned more sick with envy when, at dinner afterwards, to which the Ashtons came, Lord Hartledon devoted himself to them, almost to the neglect of his other guests, lingering much with Anne. The countess-dowager marked it also, and was furious. Nothing could be urged against them; they were unexceptionable.
"But she didn't like him, you know!" he returned, his eyes flashing with the remembrance of an old thought; and the countess-dowager took the sentence literally, and not ironically. "Not like him. If you had had any eyes as Val Elster, you'd have seen whether she liked him or not. She was dying for him not for you." He made no reply.
Ashton's family, his sensitive feelings told him; but his duty to his wife was paramount, and he could not visit his sin upon her. She was looking very ill; was low-spirited and hysterical; and when she caught sight of him she forgot her anger, and fell sobbing into his arms. The countess-dowager had gone over to Garchester, and they had a few hours' peace together.
"And I believe you meant to wait for her?" said the countess-dowager, as she put the letter into his hand, with a little laugh. "You are free now for my darling Maude." "This may not be true," observed Lord Hartledon, with compressed lips. "Every one knows what this sort of gossip is worth." "I happen to know that it is true," spoke Lady Kirton, in a whisper.
"Miss Ashton loses, and Maude wins!" cried the countess-dowager, executing a little dance of triumph. "Maude is the only one who wears the Oxford blue." It was true. The young Oxonian was a retiring and timid man, and none had voluntarily assumed his colours. But no one heeded the countess-dowager. "You are like a child, Hartledon, denying that your arm's damaged!" exclaimed Captain Dawkes.
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