Dora Thorne [114]
table, refusing to notice the trembling, outstretched hand. He could not refrain from looking back at her as he quitted the room. He saw the gentle face, so full of deadly sorrow, with its white quivering lips; and yet he thought to himself, although she looked stricken with anguish, there was no guilt on the clear, fair brow.
He turned back from the door and went straight to Lord Earle.
"I shall leave Earlescourt tomorrow," he said, abruptly. "I must go, Lord Earle; do not press to stay."
"Come and go as you will, Lionel," said Ronald, surprised at the brusqueness of his manner; "we are always pleased to see you and sorry to lose you. You will return soon, perhaps?"
"I will write to you in a few days," he replied. "I must say goodbye to Lady Earle."
She was astounded. Beatrice and Lord Airlie came up to him there was a general expression of surprise and regret. He, unlike himself, was brusque, and almost haughty.
Sir Harry and Lady Laurence had gone home. Beatrice, with a vague fear that something had gone wrong, said she was tired; Lord Airlie said goodnight; and in a few minutes Lady Helena and her son were left alone.
"What has come over Lionel?" asked Ronald. "Why, mother, how mistaken I am! Do you know that I quite believed he was falling in love with Lillian?"
"He did that long ago," replied Lady Helena, with a smile. "Say nothing about it. Lionel is very proud and impetuous. I fancy he and Lillian have had some little dispute. Matters of that kind are best left alone--interference always does harm. He will come back in a few days; and all be right again. Ronald, there is one question I have been wishing to ask you--do not be angry if I pain you, my son. Beatrice will be married soon--do you not intend her mother to be present at the wedding?"
Lord Earle rose from his chair, and began, as he always did in time of anxiety, to pace up and down the room.
"I had forgotten her claim," he said. "I can not tell what to do, mother. It would be a cruel, unmerited slight to pass her over, but I do not wish to see her. I have fought a hard battle with my feelings, but I can not bring myself to see her."
"Yet you loved her very much once," said Lady Helena.
"I did," he replied, gently. "Poor Dora."
"It is an awful thing to live at enmity with any one," said Lady Helena--"but with one's own wife! I can not understand it, Ronald."
"You mistake, mother," he said, eagerly; "I am not at enmity with Dora. She offended me--she hurt my honor--she pained me in a way I can never forget."
"You must forgive her some day," replied Lady Earle; "why not now?"
"No," he said, sadly. "I know myself--I know what I can do and what I can not do. I could take my wife in my arms, and kiss her face--I could not live with her. I shall forgive her, mother, when all that is human is dying away from me. I shall forgive her in the hour of death."
Chapter XXXVIII
Lillian Earle was no tragedy queen. She never talked about sacrifice or dying, but there was in her calm, gentle nature a depth of endurance rarely equaled. She had never owned, even to herself, how dearly she loved Lionel Dacre--how completely every thought and hope was centered in him. Since she had first learned to care for him, she had never looked her life in the face and imagined what it would be without him.
It never entered her mind to save herself at the expense of her sister; the secret had been intrusted to her, and she could not conceive the idea of disclosing it. If the choice had been offered her between death and betraying Beatrice, she would have chosen death, with a simple consciousness that she was but doing her duty.
So, when Lionel uttered those terrible words--when she found that he had seen her--she never dreamed of freeing herself from blame, and telling the story of her sister's fault. His words were bitterly cruel; they stung her with sharp pain. She had never seen contempt or scorn before on that kindly, honest face; now, she read both. Yet, what could she do? Her sister's life
He turned back from the door and went straight to Lord Earle.
"I shall leave Earlescourt tomorrow," he said, abruptly. "I must go, Lord Earle; do not press to stay."
"Come and go as you will, Lionel," said Ronald, surprised at the brusqueness of his manner; "we are always pleased to see you and sorry to lose you. You will return soon, perhaps?"
"I will write to you in a few days," he replied. "I must say goodbye to Lady Earle."
She was astounded. Beatrice and Lord Airlie came up to him there was a general expression of surprise and regret. He, unlike himself, was brusque, and almost haughty.
Sir Harry and Lady Laurence had gone home. Beatrice, with a vague fear that something had gone wrong, said she was tired; Lord Airlie said goodnight; and in a few minutes Lady Helena and her son were left alone.
"What has come over Lionel?" asked Ronald. "Why, mother, how mistaken I am! Do you know that I quite believed he was falling in love with Lillian?"
"He did that long ago," replied Lady Helena, with a smile. "Say nothing about it. Lionel is very proud and impetuous. I fancy he and Lillian have had some little dispute. Matters of that kind are best left alone--interference always does harm. He will come back in a few days; and all be right again. Ronald, there is one question I have been wishing to ask you--do not be angry if I pain you, my son. Beatrice will be married soon--do you not intend her mother to be present at the wedding?"
Lord Earle rose from his chair, and began, as he always did in time of anxiety, to pace up and down the room.
"I had forgotten her claim," he said. "I can not tell what to do, mother. It would be a cruel, unmerited slight to pass her over, but I do not wish to see her. I have fought a hard battle with my feelings, but I can not bring myself to see her."
"Yet you loved her very much once," said Lady Helena.
"I did," he replied, gently. "Poor Dora."
"It is an awful thing to live at enmity with any one," said Lady Helena--"but with one's own wife! I can not understand it, Ronald."
"You mistake, mother," he said, eagerly; "I am not at enmity with Dora. She offended me--she hurt my honor--she pained me in a way I can never forget."
"You must forgive her some day," replied Lady Earle; "why not now?"
"No," he said, sadly. "I know myself--I know what I can do and what I can not do. I could take my wife in my arms, and kiss her face--I could not live with her. I shall forgive her, mother, when all that is human is dying away from me. I shall forgive her in the hour of death."
Chapter XXXVIII
Lillian Earle was no tragedy queen. She never talked about sacrifice or dying, but there was in her calm, gentle nature a depth of endurance rarely equaled. She had never owned, even to herself, how dearly she loved Lionel Dacre--how completely every thought and hope was centered in him. Since she had first learned to care for him, she had never looked her life in the face and imagined what it would be without him.
It never entered her mind to save herself at the expense of her sister; the secret had been intrusted to her, and she could not conceive the idea of disclosing it. If the choice had been offered her between death and betraying Beatrice, she would have chosen death, with a simple consciousness that she was but doing her duty.
So, when Lionel uttered those terrible words--when she found that he had seen her--she never dreamed of freeing herself from blame, and telling the story of her sister's fault. His words were bitterly cruel; they stung her with sharp pain. She had never seen contempt or scorn before on that kindly, honest face; now, she read both. Yet, what could she do? Her sister's life