“You flatter me, Sir Richard,” returned a second voice, with which
my Lady was no better acquainted than with the first; for although she
could not but be aware of who the speakers were, since they addressed
one another by their names, she did not recognise her own son's
speech, so changed it was from its ordinary polite but icy tones; while
Rose Aynton's, upon the other hand, generally so quiet and submissive,
were tinged with a mocking bitterness. If Sir Richard Lisgard was really
about to lay his fortune at the feet of this penniless girl, it seemed
strange indeed that she should reply to him in so unnatural a key.
That the delirious joy that might well be at her heart should not be
altogether repressible, was to be expected, and that her tongue should
falter in endeavouring to conceal her triumph; but there was that in
the young girl's accents different from anything that could be thus
explained. Instead of trembling and hesitation in her speech, there was
sheer scorn. Perhaps my Lady should have come forth at once from where
she sat an involuntary eavesdropper; but it must be allowed that the
temptation to remain was very great. Moreover, there were reasons why
she could not explain her own presence in that particular portion of the
Library; and again, should she disclose herself, the young people would
feel no less uncomfortable than though they should even discover at last
that their interview had not been so solitary as they imagined, for how
did she know what had occurred while she was sleeping, and how should
she persuade Miss Rose, even if her word was sufficient for Richard,
that she _had_ been sleeping during that critical period? True, if it
was certain that the offer about to be made would be accepted, as
indeed there was every likelihood that it would be, it was highly
expedient--for various reasons known to my Lady--that she should step
forward, and prevent matters from going further; but so strange did the
girl's voice strike upon her experienced ear, that Lady Lisgard waited
in hopes of she scarce knew what--some almost miracle that might make
her personal interposition unnecessary. At the same time her curiosity
became so excessive during the protracted pause that followed Rose's
“You flatter me,” that she ventured to peer round the corner of the
recess wherein she sat, which was now far more in shade than when she
had entered it at noon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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