The Haute Noblesse Part 59

Louise caught at the table to steady herself, and her lips parted to question the girl, but she had hurried out of the room. The door was opened, a deep male voice was heard, and directly after Duncan Leslie hurried in.

"It is no time for ceremony," he gasped, breathlessly. "Where is your father?"

"At--Mr Van Heldre's," panted Louise as she turned to him with extended hands. "Mr Leslie, pray--pray tell me--what is wrong?"

"Fell you?" he cried, catching her almost in his arms, and holding her firmly; and his voice sounded deep, hoa.r.s.e and full of commiseration.

"How am I to dare to tell you, Louise?"

"Mr Leslie!"

She half struggled from him, but he retained her hands. "Tell me," he cried; "what shall I say? Am I to speak out?"

"Yes, quick! You torture me."

"Torture you, whom I would die to save from pain!" She trembled and flushed, and turned pale by turns.

"I must tell you," he said; "there is no time to spare. I have--try and bear it, my child, like the true, brave heart you are. Your brother--"

"Yes; quick! what do you mean?" Leslie stood looking at her for a few moments, his mind dragged two ways, and shrinking from giving his news as he gazed into her dilated eyes.

"Why do you not speak?" she said pa.s.sionately. "Do you not see the pain you give me?"

"I must speak," he groaned. "Where is your brother? There is a horrible rumour in the town. Mr Crampton--"

"Crampton!"

"Accuses your brother of having robbed and struck down Mr Van Heldre."

"It is a lie!" she cried fiercely, as she s.n.a.t.c.hed away her hands, gazing at him with flas.h.i.+ng eyes and burning cheeks. "My brother a thief--almost a murderer! Oh!"

"It cannot be true," said Leslie; "but--"

"Weak and reckless and foolish; but--oh, why have you come up to say these things?"

"Because I love you!" he cried pa.s.sionately; and he caught her hands in his, and held them tightly. "Because I knew that the horrible charge must soon reach your ears, and that it would be better that it should come from me--when you were in trouble--when you wanted help."

"It is not true--it is not true!" cried Louise, excitedly.

"Where is he? Let me see him. I may be able to advise and help.

Louise, dear Louise, let this terrible time of trial be that which brings us together. Let me prove to you how I love you by being your counsellor, your aid in this time of need."

She heard his words, uttered with an earnestness which told their truth; but their effect was merely to arouse her indignation. How dared he take advantage of her agony and weakness at a time like this, and insult her with professions! It was an outrage.

"Don't shrink from me," he whispered. "I will say no more now. Forgive my clumsy blundering out of the words I have for months been longing to speak. Only let me feel that you understand me--that I may love; and then you will turn to me for help in this time of trouble."

For answer she pointed to the door.

"It is false," she cried; "my brother a common thief!"

"It must be false," he echoed, against his own belief; "but the charge has been made, and he must be warned in time."

"Warned in time?" she cried. "And you who profess to be our friend stood by and heard this charge made, and did not strike down the villain who made it."

"Miss Vine--Louise, you are hasty. The shock I know is terrible, but we must be prepared to meet it. He must not be taken unawares."

"My brother can meet such a charge as a gentleman should. It is not the first time that so foul an attack has been made against an innocent man."

"You are too hard upon me," he pleaded. "How could I, loving you as I do--"

"Loving!" she cried, scornfully.

"What have I done?" he groaned. "I ran up here directly to try and be of service. In my excitement, I spoke words that I should have kept back for a time, but they would have vent, and--No, I am not ashamed of what I have said," he cried, drawing himself up. "Louise Vine, I love you, and I must help you and your brother in this terrible strait."

"Then go back to the town, and tell all who have dared to say my brother committed this crime that what they say is false, and that his father, his sister will prove his innocence. Go!"

"Yes, go," said a shrill, hard voice. "Louise, go to your room and let me speak to this man."

"Aunt, you have heard?"

"Yes, from the servants. And I heard his last insulting words. Go to your room, child."

She threw open the room, and, accustomed to obey from her childhood, Louise moved slowly towards the hall; but as she turned slightly to dart a last indignant look at the man who had set her heart beating wildly as he at the same time roused her indignation, she saw such a look of agony that her courage failed, a strange sense of pity stole through her, and she stepped back and took her aunt's arm.

"Hush, aunt dear," she said, "there is no need to say more. Mr Leslie has made a great mistake in bringing up that cruel report, and he will go now and contradict it for my brother's sake."

"And apologise for his insult," cried Aunt Marguerite fiercely. "Child, I bade you go to your room."

"Yes, aunt. I am going."

"I must speak to this man alone."

"Aunt, dear--"

"Pray go, Miss Vine," said Leslie, approaching and taking her hand.

She yielded, and he led her to the door.

"Nothing your aunt can say will change my feelings towards you. When you are calm you will forgive me. Believe me, I will do everything to clear your brother from this charge."

She looked at him wildly, and still hesitated to obey her aunt's words.

Finally, she gave way, Leslie held the door open till she was on the stairs, and then closed it, his manner completely changing as he turned and faced Aunt Marguerite, who stood with her head thrown back, and an indignant look of anger in her keen eyes.

"So, sir," she exclaimed, "you, in your common ignorance of everything connected with the social life of such a family as ours, dare to come up as a tale-bearer--as one of our servants did a few minutes back--and tell this pitiful story about my nephew."

"I grieved greatly, Miss Vine," said Leslie in quiet business-like tones.

"You grieved!" she cried. "A theft! Do you know that a des Vignes would prefer death to dishonour?"