Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 52

He slipped the whip and reins into one hand, and seized the little trembling hand and enclosed it as if he meant thus to swallow it up forever.

But, alas! the horses were going down hill, and were fidgeting and pulling; and with impatient exclamation at their stupidity, he was obliged to let the little hand go; but it did not go far; he could feel it touching, softly and timidly, the edge of his coat-sleeve, and that was enough for him. It was a mercy and a miracle that the drag was not upset, for he scarcely knew where or how he was driving, and it was more by instinct and habit that he brought the team safe and sound, but sweating tremendously, before the house in Park Lane.

"You must all come in," said Lady Bell.

The gentlemen looked at their white flannels apologetically, but Lady Bell laughed.

"Let us pretend that we are our own masters and mistresses for one night," she said, "and not the slaves of Fas.h.i.+on."

Jack stood out. He felt that, for the present, it behooved him to be discreet, and he knew that if he were not, it would be impossible for him to conceal the romantic love which burned through and through him.

Besides, he knew that there would be no opportunity of speaking to Una there; and he felt that it would be agony for him to a.s.sume the conventional air of polite indifference to her for that evening, at least.

So he went. But he stood on the pavement to help her down; and as he held her in his arms, he kept her for one moment poised between heaven and earth; and as he put her down, his lips touched her arm, and she knew it.

"I'll see to the horses, Dal," he said; and he leaped up, and drove off as if he were possessed.

"That's what the Savage calls seeing to them!" grumbled Dalrymple.

"He'll throw 'em down, or run over somebody, and I shall be fined five pounds for furious driving."

Jack was conscientious--where horses were concerned--and he sat on the rack and saw them rubbed down and fed with the patience of a martyr; then he jumped into a hansom, was driven to Spider Court, and, bursting into the room, fell into a chair and flung his cap at Leonard's head.

"Mad at last!" said Leonard.

"Yes, stark, staring, ramping mad, old fellow. I've found her!"

"No!" said Leonard, turning round.

"Yes! Yes! And I've spent the day with her. She's here in London, and who do you think she is staying with? With Mrs. Davenant, Stephen's mother!"

"Stephen's mother!" said Leonard, with surprise. "Nonsense."

"Fact! What do you make of it?"

Leonard Dagle mused in silence.

"I can make nothing of it," he said at last.

"Did she know Mrs. Davenant?"

"No; that's the mystery. Stephen, it seems, is the cause of her being here. He found out her father--how I can't guess--he must, of course, have known her before; there's nothing wonderful in that. But what is wonderful is that Stephen should do anyone a good turn, unless--unless--" and his face darkened suddenly and grew fierce--"unless he had some end in view."

"What end could he have in view here?" said Leonard.

"That's what I can't make out; can you?"

Leonard shook his head.

"It's a strange story throughout."

"It is," said Jack, grimly. "But, Stephen Davenant, if you mean any mischief, look out! I'm on your track, my friend! But, Len, old man, you look rather done up. What's the matter?"

Leonard pa.s.sed his hand over his brow.

"Something strange and mysterious also," he said. "I went to Cheltenham Terrace an hour ago, just on the chance of getting a glimpse of--of----"

"Of Laura Treherne. Well, old man?"

"And I met with a similar shock to yours in Warden Forest. I found the house shut up, and she--gone, vanished, disappeared!"

"What!" exclaimed Jack.

Leonard paced up and down.

"I went to inquire next door, and I learned that old Mr. Treherne was dead--you remember my telling you that the blinds were down--that the funeral took place yesterday, and Miss Treherne had gone. They only lodged there, it seems, and of course she could go at any moment. Where she has gone no one seems to know. So there is an end to my little romance! But no! it shall not end there."

"No; take courage by my luck, old man," said Jack, laying his hand on his shoulder--"take courage by me! Let us talk about it."

"No, no!" said Leonard, shrinking; "I cannot--yet. You don't know how I feel. Tell me what happened today. Was she glad to see you? Did you let her see that you cared for her? Of course you did."

"Yes," said Jack, with a proud, happy smile. "Yes, I told her that I loved her, and--oh, Len! Len! I know that she cares for me!"

Leonard stared at him gravely, and put down a paper which he had taken up. But Jack saw it and took it off the table.

"What are you reading there, Len?"

Leonard took it out of his hand.

"My poor, light-hearted, unreasoning Jack," he said. "It's Levy Moss'

reminder about that bill!"

Jack's face fell and he dropped into a chair.

"Quite right, Len," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "I am an unreasoning fool! What have I done? I've behaved like a blackguard! I've got this angel to admit that she loved me--me, a beggar--more than a beggar! But I swear I forgot--I forgot everything when I was near her. Oh, Heaven, Len, it's hard lines! What shall I do! If the poor old squire had but left me a few hundreds a year, how happy we could be!"

"But he hasn't," said Leonard, gravely and gently. "And what are you going to do? There's the money you lost last night----"

Jack groaned.

"What an idiot I was. Len, I swear to you that I was nearly driven out of my mind last night. First there was Lady Bell--she was more than civil, and bearing in mind all you said and wanted me to do, I made myself agreeable, and--and--she's very beautiful, Len, and when she looks right into your eyes and smiles, she seems to do what she likes with you. Len, I was nearly gone when that vision--as I thought it--came into the gla.s.s amongst the ferns. I thought it was a vision--I know now that she was there--and it drove me silly. I bolted out and made for the club, and played to forget it all."

"And made bad matters worse," said Leonard. "You're in a hole, Jack, I'm afraid. Moss won't wait; there are other bills, and there's the I. O. U.

of last night, and you've lost the money you had, and you've asked this young girl to love you. You mean to marry her--I say, you mean to marry her. On what? How can you go to her father--who already doesn't seem altogether prepossessed in your favor--and ask him to give his daughter to a penniless gentleman? Mind--a gentleman! If you were a woodman like himself, your being hard up wouldn't matter. You could take an ax, or whatever they use, and earn your living. But you can't go and ask him to let her share your over-due bills and I. O. U.'s."

Jack groaned.

"What shall I do, Len? My darling, my darling!"

Leonard sighed. His heart--the heart of as true a friend as ever the world held--ached for the wild, thoughtless youth.