England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
But there was literally nothing more than a hand-shake. Miss Layne,
standing still in all humility, turned a little white, for she guessed
that he was being sent from his home through her. Sir Geoffry held her
hand for a moment.
"I am going away, Mary. My mother will explain to you. I have done my
best, and failed. Before Heaven, I have striven to the uttermost, for
your sake and for mine, to make reparation; but it is not to be. I leave
you to my mother; she is your friend; and you shall hear from me in a
day or two. I am now going to see Mrs. Layne. Good-bye: God bless you
always!"
But, ere Sir Geoffry reached the hall, Lady Chavasse had run swiftly
down, caught him, and was drawing him into a room. The fear had returned
to her face.
"I heard you say you were going to call on Mrs. Layne. Geoffry, this
must not be."
"_Not be!_" he repeated, in surprise. "Mother, I am obeying you in all
essential things; but you cannot wish to reduce me to an utter craven. I
owe an explanation to Mrs. Layne almost in the same degree that I owe it
to you; and I shall certainly not quit Church Dykely until I have given
it."
"Oh, well--if it must be," she conceded, afraid still. "You--you will
not be drawn in to act against me, Geoffry?"
"No power on earth could draw me to that. You have my first and best
allegiance; to which I bow before every other consideration, before
every interest, whether of my own or of others. But for that, should I
be acting as I am now? Fare you well, mother."
She heard the carriage-door closed; she heard Sir Geoffry's order to
the footman. Even for that order, he was cautious to give a plausible
excuse.
"Stop at Mrs. Layne's. I have to leave a message from her ladyship."
The wheels of the carriage crunched the gravel, bearing off Sir Geoffry
in the storm of sleet--which had begun to fall--and Lady Chavasse passed
up the stairs again. Taking the hand of Mary--who had stood above
like a statue--never moving--she led her, gently enough, into her
dressing-room, and put her in a comfortable chair by the fire; and
prepared for this second interview.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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