Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/556

548 letter from India. Both were from Colonel Tempest. The contents of Lady Verner’s annoyed her, and the contents of Lucy’s annoyed her.

It appeared that some considerable time back; nearly, if not quite, twelve months, Lucy had privately written to Colonel Tempest, urgently requesting to be allowed to go out to join him. She gave no reason or motive for the request, but urged it strongly. That letter, in consequence of the moving about of Colonel Tempest, had only just reached him: and now had arrived the answer to it. He told Lucy that he should very shortly be returning to Europe: therefore it was useless for her to think of going out.

So far, so good. However Lucy might have been vexed or disappointed at the reply—and she was both; still more at the delay which had taken place—there the matter would have ended. But Colonel Tempest, having no idea that Lady Verner was a stranger to this request; inferring, on the contrary, that she was a party to it, and must therefore be growing tired of her charge, had also written to her an elaborate apology for leaving Lucy so long upon her hands, and for being unable to comply with her wish to be relieved of her. This enlightened Lady Verner as to what Lucy had done.

She was very angry. She was worse than angry; she was mortified. And she questioned Lucy a great deal more closely than that young lady liked, as to what her motive could have been, and why she was tired of Deerham Court.

Lucy, all self-conscious of the motive by which she had been really actuated, stood before her like a culprit.

“I am not tired of Deerham Court, Lady Verner. But I wished to be with papa.”

“Which is equivalent to saying that you wish to be away from me.” retorted my lady. “I ask you why?”

“Indeed, Lady Verner, I am pleased to be with you; I like to be with you. It was not to be away from you that I wrote. It is a long while since I saw papa: so long, that I seem to have forgotten what he is like.”

“Can you assure me, in all open truth, that the wish to be with Colonel Tempest was your sole reason for writing, unbiassed by any private feeling touching Deerham?” returned Lady Verner, searching her face keenly. “I charge you answer me, Lucy.”

Lucy could not answer that it was her sole reason, unless she told an untruth. Her eyes fell under the gaze bent upon her.

“I see,” said Lady Verner. “You need not equivocate more. Is it to me that you have taken a dislike? or to any part of my arrangements?”

“Believe me, dear Lady Verner, that it is neither to you nor to your home,” she answered, the tears rising to her eyes. “Believe me, I am as happy here as I ever was: on that score I have no wish to change.”

It was an unlucky admission of Lucy’s, “on that score.” Of course, Lady Verner immediately pressed to know on what other score the wish might be founded. Lucy pleaded the desire to be with her father, which Lady Verner did not believe; and she pleaded nothing else. It was not satisfactory to my lady, and she kept Lucy the whole of the morning, harping upon the sore point.

Lionel entered, and interrupted the discussion. Lady Verner put him in possession of the facts. That for some cause which Lucy refused to explain, she wanted to leave Deerham Court; had been writing, twelve months back, to Colonel Tempest to be allowed to join him in India; and the negative answer had arrived but that morning. Lady Verner would like the motive for her request explained: but Lucy was obstinate, and would not explain it.

Lionel turned his eyes on Lucy. If she had stood self-conscious before Lady Verner, she stood doubly self-conscious now. Her eyelashes were drooping, her cheeks were crimson.

“She says she has no fault to find with me, no fault to find with the arrangements of my house,” pursued Lady Verner. “Then I want to know what else it is that should drive her away from Deerham. Look at her, Lionel! That is how she stands: unable to give me an answer.”

Lady Verner might equally well have said, Look at Lionel. He stood self-conscious also. Too well he knew the motive—absence from him—which had actuated Lucy. From him, the married man, the man who had played her false; away, anywhere, from witnessing the daily happiness of him and his wife. He read it all, and Lucy saw that he did.

“It were no such strange wish, surely, to be where my dear papa is!” she exclaimed, the crimson of her cheeks turning to scarlet.

“No,” murmured Lionel, “no such strange wish. I wish I could go to India, and free the neighbourhood of my presence!”

A curious wish! Lady Verner did not understand it. Lionel gave her no opportunity to inquire its meaning, for he turned to quit the room and the house. She rose and laid her hand upon his arm to detain him.

“I have an engagement,” pleaded Lionel.

“A moment yet. Lionel, what is this nonsense that is disturbing the equanimity of Deerham? About a ghost?”

“Ah, what indeed?” returned Lionel, in a careless tone, as if he would make light of it. “You know what Deerham is, mother. Some think Dan Duff saw his own shadow, some a white cow in the pound. Either is sufficient marvel for Deerham.”

“So vulgar a notion!” reiterated Lady Verner, resuming her seat, and taking her essence bottle in her delicately gloved hands. “I wonder you don’t stop it, Lionel.”

“I!” cried Lionel, opening his eyes in considerable surprise. “How am I to stop it?”

“You are the lord of Deerham. It is vulgar, I say, to have such a report afloat on your estate.”

Lionel smiled. “I don’t know how you are to put away vulgarity from stargazers and villagers. Or ghosts, either—if they once get ghosts in their heads.”

He finally left the Court, and turned towards home. His mother’s words about the ghost had brought the subject to his mind. If, indeed, it had required bringing: but the whispered