Dora Thorne [25]
hand once again!"
"No," said Lord Earle, turning from the outstretched hand; "that is not the hand of an honorable man; I can not hold it in my own."
Then Ronald bent down to kiss his mother; her face was white and still; she was not conscious of his tears or his passionate pleading. Lord Earle raised her face. "Go," said he, calmly; "do not let your mother find you here when she recovers."
He never forgot the pleading of those sorrowful eyes, the anguish of the brave young face, as Ronald turned from him and left the room.
When Lady Earle awoke to consciousness of her misery, her son had left her. No one would have called Lord Earle hard or stern who saw him clasp his weeping wife in his arms, and console her by every kind and tender word he could utter.
Lord Earle did not know that in his wife's heart there was a hope that in time he would relent. It was hard to lose her brave boy for a few months or even years; but he would return, his father must forgive him, her sorrow would be but for a time. But Lord Earle, inflexible and unflinching, knew that he should never in life see his son again.
No one knew what Lord Earle suffered; as Valentine Charteris said, he was too proud for scenes. He dined with Lady Charteris and her daughter, excusing his wife, and never naming his son. After dinner he shut himself in his own room, and suffered his agony along.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Earlescourt was full of bustle and activity. The young heir was leaving suddenly; boxes and trunks had to be packed. He did not say where he was going; indeed those who helped him said afterward that his face was fixed and pale, and that he moved about like one in a dream.
Everything was arranged for Ronald's departure by the night mail from Greenfield, the nearest station to Earlescourt. He took with him neither horses nor servants; even his valet, Morton, was left behind. "My lady" was ill, and shut up in her room all day.
Valentine Charteris sat alone in the drawing room when Ronald came in to bid her farewell. She was amazed at the unhappy termination of the interview. She would have gone instantly to Lord Earle, but Ronald told her it was useless--no prayers, no pleadings could change his determination.
As Ronald stood here, looking into Valentine's beautiful face, he remembered his mother's words, that she cared for him as she cared for no other. Could it be possible that this magnificent girl, with her serene, queenly dignity, loved him? She looked distressed by his sorrow. When he spoke of his mother, and she saw the quivering lips he vainly tried to still, tears filled her eyes.
"Where shall you go," she asked, "and what shall you do?"
"I shall go to my wife at once," he replied, "and take her abroad. Do not look so pained and grieved for me, Miss Charteris I must do the best I can. If my income will not support me, I must work; a few months' study will make me a tolerable artist. Do not forget my mother, Valentine, and bid me 'Godspeed.'"
Her heart yearned for him--so young, so simple, so brave. She longed to tell him how much she admired him--how she wanted to help him, and would be his friend while she lived. But Miss Charteris rarely yielded to any emotion; she had laid her hand in his and said:
"Goodbye, Ronald--God bless you! Be brave; it is not one great deed that makes a hero. The man who bears trouble well is the greatest hero of all."
As he left his home in that quiet starlit night, Ronald little thought that, while his mother lay weeping as though her heart would break, a beautiful face, wet with bitter tears, watched him from one of the upper windows, and his father, shut up alone, listened to every sound, and heard the door closed behind his son as he would have heard his own death knell.
The next day Lady Charteris and her daughter left Earlescourt. Lord Earle gave no sign of the heavy blow which had struck him. He was their attentive host while they remained; he escorted them to their carriage, and parted from them with smiling words.
"No," said Lord Earle, turning from the outstretched hand; "that is not the hand of an honorable man; I can not hold it in my own."
Then Ronald bent down to kiss his mother; her face was white and still; she was not conscious of his tears or his passionate pleading. Lord Earle raised her face. "Go," said he, calmly; "do not let your mother find you here when she recovers."
He never forgot the pleading of those sorrowful eyes, the anguish of the brave young face, as Ronald turned from him and left the room.
When Lady Earle awoke to consciousness of her misery, her son had left her. No one would have called Lord Earle hard or stern who saw him clasp his weeping wife in his arms, and console her by every kind and tender word he could utter.
Lord Earle did not know that in his wife's heart there was a hope that in time he would relent. It was hard to lose her brave boy for a few months or even years; but he would return, his father must forgive him, her sorrow would be but for a time. But Lord Earle, inflexible and unflinching, knew that he should never in life see his son again.
No one knew what Lord Earle suffered; as Valentine Charteris said, he was too proud for scenes. He dined with Lady Charteris and her daughter, excusing his wife, and never naming his son. After dinner he shut himself in his own room, and suffered his agony along.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Earlescourt was full of bustle and activity. The young heir was leaving suddenly; boxes and trunks had to be packed. He did not say where he was going; indeed those who helped him said afterward that his face was fixed and pale, and that he moved about like one in a dream.
Everything was arranged for Ronald's departure by the night mail from Greenfield, the nearest station to Earlescourt. He took with him neither horses nor servants; even his valet, Morton, was left behind. "My lady" was ill, and shut up in her room all day.
Valentine Charteris sat alone in the drawing room when Ronald came in to bid her farewell. She was amazed at the unhappy termination of the interview. She would have gone instantly to Lord Earle, but Ronald told her it was useless--no prayers, no pleadings could change his determination.
As Ronald stood here, looking into Valentine's beautiful face, he remembered his mother's words, that she cared for him as she cared for no other. Could it be possible that this magnificent girl, with her serene, queenly dignity, loved him? She looked distressed by his sorrow. When he spoke of his mother, and she saw the quivering lips he vainly tried to still, tears filled her eyes.
"Where shall you go," she asked, "and what shall you do?"
"I shall go to my wife at once," he replied, "and take her abroad. Do not look so pained and grieved for me, Miss Charteris I must do the best I can. If my income will not support me, I must work; a few months' study will make me a tolerable artist. Do not forget my mother, Valentine, and bid me 'Godspeed.'"
Her heart yearned for him--so young, so simple, so brave. She longed to tell him how much she admired him--how she wanted to help him, and would be his friend while she lived. But Miss Charteris rarely yielded to any emotion; she had laid her hand in his and said:
"Goodbye, Ronald--God bless you! Be brave; it is not one great deed that makes a hero. The man who bears trouble well is the greatest hero of all."
As he left his home in that quiet starlit night, Ronald little thought that, while his mother lay weeping as though her heart would break, a beautiful face, wet with bitter tears, watched him from one of the upper windows, and his father, shut up alone, listened to every sound, and heard the door closed behind his son as he would have heard his own death knell.
The next day Lady Charteris and her daughter left Earlescourt. Lord Earle gave no sign of the heavy blow which had struck him. He was their attentive host while they remained; he escorted them to their carriage, and parted from them with smiling words.