Sir George Tressady (Vol.1&2). Mrs. Humphry Ward

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      "Letty? Oh! Letty's my niece—the daughter of my brother, Walter Sewell, of Helbeck. They live in Yorkshire. My brother has my father's place—a small estate, and rents very irregular. I often wonder how they manage to dress that child as they do. However, she has always had her own way since she was a foot high. As for my poor brother, he has been an invalid for the last ten years, and neither he nor his wife—oh! such a stupid woman!"—Mrs. Watton's energetic hands and eyes once more, called Heaven to witness—"have ever counted for much, I should say, in Letty's career. There is another sister, a little delicate, silent thing, that looks after them. Oh! Letty isn't stupid; I should think not. I suppose you're alarmed about Sir George. You needn't be. She does it with everybody."

      The candid aunt pursued the conversation a little further, in the same tone of a half-caustic indulgence. At the end of it, however, Lord Fontenoy was still uneasy. He had only migrated to Malford House for the declaration of the poll, having spent the canvassing weeks mainly in another part of the division. And now, on this triumphant evening, he was conscious of a sudden sense of defective information, which was disagreeable and damping.

      * * * * *

      When bedtime came, Letty lingered in the drawing-room a little behind the other ladies, on the plea of gathering up some trifles that belonged to her. So that when George Tressady went out with her to light her candle for her in the gallery, they found themselves alone.

      He had fallen into a sudden silence, which made her sweep him a look of scrutiny as she took her candlestick. The slim yet virile figure drawn to its full height, the significant, long-chinned face, pleased her senses. He might be plain—she supposed he was—but he was, nevertheless, distinguished, and extraordinarily alive.

      "I believe you are tired to death," she said to him. "Why don't you go to bed?"

      She spoke with the freedom of one accustomed to advise all her male acquaintance for their good. George laughed.

      "Tired? Not I. I was before dinner. Look here, Miss Sewell, I've got a question to ask."

      "Ask it."

      "You don't want to spoil my great day, do you? You do repent that headache?"

      They looked at each other, dancing laughter in each pair of eyes, combined in his with an excited insistence.

      "Good-night, Sir George," she said, holding out her hand.

      He retained it.

      "You do?" he said, bending over her.

      She liked the situation, and made no immediate effort to change it.

      "Ask me a month hence, when I have proved your statements."

      "Then you admit it was all pretence?"

      "I admit nothing," she said joyously. "I protected my friend."

      "Yes, by injuring and offending another friend. Would it please you if I said I missed you very much at Malford to-day?"

      "I will tell you to-morrow—it is so late! Please let me have my hand."

      He took no notice, and they went hand-in-hand, she drawing him, to the foot of the stairs.

      "George!" said a shrill, hesitating voice from overhead.

      George looked up, and saw his mother. He and Letty started apart, and in another second Letty had glided upstairs and disappeared.

      "Yes, mother," said George, impatiently.

      "Will you come here?"

      He mounted, and found Lady Tressady a little discomposed, but as affected as usual.

      "Oh, George! it was so dark—I didn't see—I didn't know. George, will you have half an hour's talk with me after breakfast to-morrow? Oh, George, my dear boy, my dear boy! Your poor mammy understands!"

      She laid one hand on his shoulder and, lifting her feather fan in the other, shook it with playful meaning in the direction whither Letty had departed.

      George hastily withdrew himself. "Of course I will have a talk with you, mother. As for anything else, I don't know what you mean. But you really must let me go to bed; I am much too tired to talk now. Good-night."

      Lady Tressady went back to her room, smiling but anxious.

      "She has caught him!" she said to herself; "barefaced little flirt! It is not altogether the best thing for me. But it may dispose him to be generous, if—if I can play my cards."

      Letty Sewell meanwhile had reached the quiet of a luxurious bedroom, and summoned her maid to her assistance. When the maid departed, the mistress held long counsel with herself over the fire: the general position of her affairs; what she desired; what other people intended; her will, and the chances, of getting it. Her thoughts dealt with these various problems in a skilled and business-like way. To a particular form of self-examination Letty was well accustomed, and it had become by now a strong agent in the development of individuality, as self-examination of another sort is said to be by other kinds of people.

      She herself was pleasantly conscious of real agitation. George Tressady had touched her feelings, thrilled her nerves, more than—Yes! she said to herself decidedly, more than anybody else, more than "the rest." She thought of "the rest," one after the other—thought of them contemptuously. Yet, certainly few girls in her own set and part of the country had enjoyed a better time—few, perhaps, had dared so many adventures. Her mother had never interfered with her; and she herself had not been afraid to be "talked about." Dances, picnics, moonlight walks; the joys of outrageous "sitting-out," and hot rivalries with prettier girls; of impertinences towards the men who didn't matter, and pretty flatteries towards the men who did—it was all pleasant enough to think of. She could not reproach herself with having missed any chances, any opportunities her own will might have given her.

      And yet—well, she was tired of it!—out of love altogether with her maiden state and its opportunities. She had come to Malford House in a state of soreness, which partly accounted, perhaps, for such airs as she had been showing to poor Mrs. Hawkins. During the past year a particular marriage—the marriage of her neighbourhood—had seemed intermittently within her reach. She had played every card she knew—and she had failed! Failed, too, in the most humiliating way. For the bride, indeed, was chosen; but it was not Letty Sewell, but one of Letty's girl-neighbours.

      To-night, almost for the first time, she could bear to think of it; she could even smile at it. Vanity and ambition alone had been concerned, and to-night these wild beasts of the heart were soothed and placable.

      Well, it was no great match, of course—if it came off. All that Aunt Watton knew about the Tressadys had been long since extracted from her by her niece. And with Tressady himself Letty's artless questions had been very effective. She knew almost all that she wished to know. No doubt Ferth was a very second-rate "place"; and, since those horrid miners had become so troublesome, his income as a coal-owner could not be what his father's had been—three or four thousand a year, she supposed—more, perhaps, in good years. It was not much.

      Still—she pressed her hands on her eyes—he was distinguished; she saw that plainly already. He would be welcome anywhere.

      "And we are not distinguished—that is just it. We are small people, in a rather dull set. And I have СКАЧАТЬ