Read Ebook: A vagrant wife by Warden Florence

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Ebook has 2083 lines and 92614 words, and 42 pages

ot no answering caress, for the hand was still forever.

The days which followed between Sir George's death and the funeral were an awkward time for Harry and his eldest brother. The younger purposely held aloof, and avoided any private conversation with the present head of the family. Only once did George catch him alone, and instantly took advantage of the opportunity.

"Don't go," said he, laying his hand on the arm of his brother, who was going to leave the stable as he entered it. "I have been waiting for a chance to speak to you. Our father left your future in my hands, you know," he added, in a tone which, if he chose, the other might take as a warning.

"Well, what is it?" asked Harry, impatiently.

"Don't be so fidgety. It is nothing unpleasant. I only want to know if you can tell me where to find the Mainwarings' late governess, Miss Lane?"

"And you said you had nothing unpleasant to say! I call it unpleasant--confoundedly unpleasant--to ask me such a question! As if I had anything to do with Miss Lane! What do you want to know for?" His manner changed from sullen to fierce with this question.

"Your manner is a little inconsistent. If you know nothing about her, why are you so angry when I ask you if you do?"

"I don't care to be put through my catechism. You ask more questions than my father did."

"Then he spoke to you about this matter?"

"What if he did?"

"And you told him the truth?"

"Yes, the truth. I swear it! But I am not bound to answer your questions, and I won't. Take your hand off my arm; do you hear?"

"Only one question. When you have answered it, I won't bother you again. Do you know where Miss Lane lives?"

A light suddenly came into his brother's eyes, and he answered readily:

"I haven't the least idea where Miss Lane lives; I swear it!"

His brother took his hand sharply off his arm and turned away. He thought it was a lie; but he had no means of extracting the truth. He was more interested in Miss Lane than the younger guessed, more anxious for the interview he was about to seek with the prim little girl than he had ever been before about a meeting with a woman.

He had to keep his impatience in check until the funeral was over; but on the very day after, the young baronet went up to town and to the address Mrs. Mansfield had given him.

"Is Miss Lane at home?" he asked of the servant who opened the door. "Ask if she will see Sir George Braithwaite," he added, as the girl did not answer.

She left him in the hall while she went up-stairs, and then returned and asked him to walk up. And in the sitting-room into which he was shown sat Miss Lane--but not the downcast little creature of Garstone Vicarage days--a little, smiling fairy in cream-colored muslin, with a rose at her throat, and a small hand put out in welcome. After the first greetings, her glance fell on his deep hatband.

"My father is dead," said he.

She looked grave and sorry at once, but not so much surprised as if the fact of his illness had been unknown to her.

"You had heard of his accident?"

"Yes, I saw it in the papers," she answered, blushing, and not looking at him.

He looked at her searchingly. Who could have told her all about it but Harry?

"Were they all there when he died?" she asked, softly.

"All the family were there--yes. Didn't you know?"

"How could I know, Sir George? I have not kept up correspondence with the Mainwarings. They do not care enough about me."

"But you left others behind you at Garstone who did," said he, more hurriedly than he generally spoke such speeches, for his heart was beating faster.

He had never yet looked on a woman who so completely fulfilled his ideal of a beautiful and graceful lady. A passionate wish sprung up in him that he might be mistaken in spite of all, and that his brother might have no interest for her. He glanced at her hands; they were ringless. He would fain have convinced himself that the very glance of her steadfast brown eyes proved her to be innocent of any evil. Yet these rooms, this dainty dress, did not proclaim the struggling governess out of work. For the first time it flashed across his mind, as he looked at her, that, if only she could convince him that she was as free and as pure as he would fain believe, he, Sir George Braithwaite of Garstone Grange, would be ready to marry the little governess out of employment.

She had noticed his compliment only by a short, sharp breath, and asked after the vicar's family to divert the conversation.

"I am sure I shall like daily teaching much better than my life with them," she went on quickly.

"You have some pupils then?"

"Not yet. I--there have been difficulties in the way of my getting any before now; but I hope to do so soon," she said, hurriedly.

"And you don't find this life dull?" said Sir George, his jealousy awake again.

"Oh, no!"

"I suppose your friends come to see you very often?"

"No; I don't have many visitors."

"Perhaps they don't know where you are. You know you promised to give me your address; but you never did. You left me to find it out as best I could for myself."

"It--it is very kind of you to come," said the girl, flushing, "How did you find me out?" she asked, anxiously.

"I asked Mrs. Mainwaring for your aunt's address, and went from Garstone to her house."

"You went all the way to my aunt's!"

"I would have gone to the world's end to find you!" He left his seat and stood by the mantel-piece, bending over her. "Didn't you know I loved you? You were kind to me that day at the flower show. You promised me your address, you told me the train you were going by." She was trying to stop him; but it was out of her power now. "Then, when I said I would see you off, as your own words had given me the right to do, you gave me a cruel snub. And then you let Harry see you off, and--and travel up to town with you, they say."

She had risen, and was confronting him with bright, eager eyes.

"I did not let him--I did not expect him. He came, and I could not prevent it."

"Is that true, my darling?" cried George, passionately. She was standing, with upturned face, close to him. He threw his arms round her.

"Then you don't love him! You have nothing to do with him and his forgeries?"

"Forgeries?" she cried, paralyzed even while she tried to free herself.

As they stood, he with one arm round her, she still with horror, Harry came in. He sprung upon his brother and tore the trembling girl out of his arms.

"Oh, is this true? Is it true? You heard what he said!" she cried, with a shudder.

"Is it a time to accuse me when I find you in another man's arms?" he cried, fiercely.

"And by what right do you object to her being anywhere she pleases?"

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