Leslie's Loyalty. Garvice Charles

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СКАЧАТЬ the street. You might have knocked me down with a feather."

      "I dare say. Well?"

      Lord Vinson looks rather aggrieved at being cut so short, but goes on good-temperedly enough.

      "She spotted me at once, and the first question she asked was, had I seen you?"

      "Well?" demands Yorke, as curtly as before.

      "Well, I didn't know what to say for the moment, because I thought perhaps you wouldn't care for her to know."

      A faint expression of relief flits across Yorke's face, but it disappears at Vinson's next words.

      "She saw me hesitate, and of course knew that I had seen you. 'It's no use your playing it low down on me, my dear boy,' she said, laughing – you know her way. 'You couldn't deceive a two-months-old calf, if you tried. You've seen him, and he's here somewhere.' It was no use trying to deceive her, as she said, and I had to own up that I had seen you this morning, and – that you borrowed my rig."

      Yorke bit his lip, and nodded impatiently.

      "She took it very well, she did indeed. She only laughed and said that she knew you had left town for some fishing; and, being sick of London herself, she had sent a certificate to say she was down with low or high, or some kind of fever, I forget which, and had to run down here for a bit of a holiday with her brother – or her uncle, I don't know which it is."

      Yorke looks round with ill-concealed anxiety.

      "Oh, it's all right," says Lord Vinson; "they've gone on to the inn. I came back for my stick. There it is. Well, I thought the best thing I could do was to ask them to come for a sail, and it took her ladyship's fancy, and here we are, don't you know."

      Yorke stands with downcast, overclouded face, and the young viscount, after regarding him attentively, says:

      "Look here, Auchester, I know what it is, you don't want to run against her just now. Got friends up there, eh?" and he nods his head in the direction of the tower.

      "No, I do not want to see her, and I certainly don't want her to see me," assents Yorke. "If you can manage to take her away, Vinson!"

      He lays his hand on the young fellow's shoulder, and Vinson, who is never so delighted as when doing a service for his friend, nods intelligently.

      "I see. All right, you leave it to me." He pulls out his watch. "I'll get her away at once; in fact, it's time we started. Don't you be uneasy."

      "Thanks," says Yorke, and his brow lifts a little. "When does she go back?"

      "To-night; she plays to-morrow."

      Yorke's brow clears completely, and he smiles.

      "Off with you, then," he says. "I'm awfully obliged to you, Vinson. You are right; I don't want the – the people I am with to see her."

      Vinson looks up at the tower curiously, and rather wistfully.

      "No, my dear boy, I'm not going to introduce you," says Yorke, with a smile. "I'm too anxious to be rid of you – and her. See them safe on board the train to-night, and if anything occurs to prevent them going, send me a message to-morrow morning. I'll give you the address – ." He stops. "No, never mind. Make them go to-night. Tell her she'll lose her engagement, anything, but see that she goes."

      Vinson grins.

      "I'll tell her you've gone back to town," he says.

      Yorke colors.

      "Woodman, spare the lie," he says, with forced levity. "No need to tell her that."

      "No, it wouldn't do, come to think of it. She'd find out I'd sold her when she'd got back, and then – ." He whistled, significantly. "I like Finetta with her claws in, don't you know. I think you're the only man that's not afraid of her."

      Yorke smiles again.

      "Well, do what you like," he says. "But go now, there's a good fellow; and for Heaven's sake, don't let her come this way again. We heard her singing!"

      Vinson laughs.

      "Yes, if you were within a mile of her you couldn't help doing that," he says, dryly. "Well, good-by, old chap. Don't trouble about the nags."

      "They are all right," says Yorke. "I'll bring them back safe and sound – ."

      "When the coast's clear," finishes the young fellow; and with a smile and a nod, he picks up his stick, and goes off.

      Yorke Auchester stands where his friend has left him, and looks out to sea, with a troubled countenance; stares so long, and so lost in thought that it would seem as if he had forgotten his own party. It is not often that the young man has a moody fit, but he has it now, and very badly.

      But presently there comes down to him the faint sound of Leslie Lisle's soft, musical laugh – how striking a contrast to that of the young lady whom he has just got rid of! and he wakes from his unpleasant reverie and climbs up to the tower.

      The duke is leaning back with an amused and interested smile on his face, which is turned towards Leslie, and it is evident that he is happier and more contented than usual.

      "Miss Lisle has just been giving me a description of the Portmaris folks. You have missed something, Yorke," he says, with a laugh. "Have the savages disappeared?"

      "Quite," says Yorke; "and if Miss Lisle and her father would like to look round, the coast is now clear."

      "You go, papa," says Leslie, with her usual unselfishness; "and I will stay with Mr. Temple."

      The duke glances at her.

      "You will do nothing of the kind," he says. "I am not going to impose upon your good nature, Miss Lisle. Besides, I dare say, I shall take forty winks."

      Leslie hesitates a moment, then she gets up and goes for the easel; but Yorke is too quick for her.

      "Come along, Mr. Lisle," he says, touching him on the arm, while he stands looking from the edge of the tower absently, and the three descend.

      "Now, this strikes me as a good place," says Yorke, setting up the easel. "Don't know much about it you know, but it seems to me that the outline and the – ."

      "Excellent; yes, very good," assents the artist, eagerly getting out his drawing paper. "Yes, I can make a picture of this. You need not wait," he adds. "You will want to talk and – ."

      "I see," says Yorke. "Come along, Miss Lisle; we're evidently not wanted."

      They stroll away side by side, and slowly descend the grassy slope, which gradually becomes broken by rock, which kindly nature, who has always an eye to effect, has clothed with ferns and moss and lichen.

      "I suppose I ought to show you the hermit's cell?" says Leslie. "Everybody sees it."

      "By all means," he assents, but rather absently – the loud laugh of Finetta, the music-hall song are still echoing hideously in his ears. "Which hermit?"

      "Didn't you know?" she says, lightly stepping from stone to stone. "There was a hermit here once ever so long ago. Here is his cell," and she stops before a cavity in the rocks, a deliciously shady nook, overhung with honeysuckle and wild clematis which perfume СКАЧАТЬ