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"That is not the case," I answered.

Vernon Carbury had very bright eyes, and they flashed an angry fire; but when he turned and gave me a quick glance, and saw the fire of anger in my eyes, all indignation passed out of his. His eyes smiled.

"Child," said my father, coming up to me, "this is not the place for you. I must request you, Heather, to leave us for the present."

"Father! oh, father!" I said.

I spoke exactly as I used to do when I was a little child. I took his hand and drew him imperiously outside the door.

"Father," I whispered, "Lord Hawtrey did – oh, very, very kindly, too – he did ask me last night to marry him, and oh! he was most good – but, darlingest Daddy, I could not marry him, for I do not love him one bit – I mean, not that way, Daddy. Why, Daddy, he is old enough to be my father, and I only want one father, and you are he; but I do – yes, I do care for Vernon Carbury. Please, please, father, think of our great unhappiness if we are parted, and of our wonderful joy if you allow us to be engaged to each other!"

"I will do my utmost, my poor little one – my utmost," he answered.

"Gordon, we are waiting for you," said Lady Helen's hard voice, and then he wrenched my hands away from his neck, and returned to the room where Lady Helen and my lover were to fight a battle for me. Oh, if only father would be strong and take my part!

I ran up to my room and flung myself on my bed. Morris knocked at the door, but I told her to go away; I did not want her then; I did not want the flowers I had bought that morning. Flowers, love, sunshine; the joys of God's earth would all be as ashes in my mouth if my hero were banished. They were discussing me downstairs; they were tearing my love from me – oh, I could not bear it! My heart began to beat so fast that I could scarcely endure the thumping sensation which was going through my body. I longed to sleep, just because in sleep I might forget; I wanted the minutes to pass quickly.

Suddenly I sat up; I began listening intently. In my distant bedroom I could hear no sound of what went on in the downstairs rooms. I flew to the window and opened it. Oh, he would not go away – he would see me, whatever happened he would see me – it would be impossible for him to go away without seeing me! Yes, we were made for each other, for was I not in his secret gallery of heroes, and was not he in mine? And could any mere human creature divide us? I thought of Lady Helen, with her hard, cruel face, and of my father. Father loved me, and I told him quite distinctly what I wanted, and I believe that he understood. Had he not always loved his own little Heather? Oh, it must be all right!

Just then I heard, far away, like a distant sort of echo in the house, a door bang. Once again I rushed to the window – I did not mind who saw me – I opened it wide at the top, and put my head out. Captain Carbury was walking quickly down the street. Would he, by any possibility, look back? Would that invisible link between us cause him to raise his eyes until he saw my face? Would he look back, and look up? He did neither. At the first corner he abruptly turned, and was lost to view.

"She has done it!" I said to myself. "Oh, how deeply I hate her! But I will never marry Lord Hawtrey, and I will marry Vernon – I will – for I love him with all my heart and soul!"

The depth of my feelings, and the wildness of my anger, gave me courage. I rushed downstairs. I had the free run of every part of the house, except Lady Helen's boudoir; that door was shut. I was never expected to go in without knocking; I knocked now in frantic haste. A voice – a cold, surprised voice – said:

"Who is there?"

I repeated to myself the words "Who is there?" and the thought occurred to me that I should not be allowed to enter. They would shut me out, just as surely as they had torn me from the arms of the man I loved, so would they now – my father and Lady Helen – shut me from their consultations. I opened the door, therefore, and went boldly in.

"You can see the person who was outside the door," I said, and then I walked straight up to my father, who was lying back in a deep chair, his legs crossed one over the other, his head resting against the back of the chair; his face was perturbed, and very red, his blue eyes bright.

Lady Helen, on the contrary, was standing. She had a fan in her hand, and with it she was fanning her hot face. Why were they both so hot and indignant? Why did they look for all the world as though each hated the other?

"I want to know," I said, "and I will know, what you have done with Vernon Carbury."

There was no response whatever to my question. It was received with deep and surprised silence by both my stepmother and my father. Then my father turned, looked at me, blinked his eyes a trifle, and, putting his hand out, drew me down to sit on the edge of his chair.

"If, Gordon," said my stepmother, "you mean to make a fool of yourself over that most troublesome, refractory, and good-for-nothing girl, I will leave you with her. If you listen to her sentimental and silly remarks, I can at least go and rest in my room; but clearly understand what my view of this business is."

"I have not uttered a word, Helen," replied my father.

"Uttered!" said Lady Helen, a volume of scorn in her voice; "have not your eyes spoken, has not your hand spoken, has not your action spoken? That girl dares to come into my private room uninvited, and you encourage her."

"I have come to ask about Captain Carbury," I said. "He is mine, and I want to know everything about him. Where is he – what have you done with him – have you sent him away? Why did he go away without speaking to me? I tell you he is mine. I will see him."

Lady Helen suddenly changed her manner. She sank into a chair and burst out laughing.

"Gordon," she said, without taking the least notice of me, "may I venture to inquire the exact age of this little spitfire?"

"How old are you, Pussy?" inquired my father.

"As if that mattered!" I said. "I am a hundred years old, as far as feelings go."

"But as far as the law goes," said Lady Helen, "I think, my dear, you will find that you are eighteen, and therefore a minor, and therefore unable to marry without the consent of your father and your stepmother. You will find that such is the case, Heather; you had better understand this at once."

"Very well," I answered, "if that is really the law, and you won't give your consent – you, who are no relation to me at all – and if father won't give his consent, although he is a very near relation, then I shall do this: I shall wait until I am twenty-one; I know Vernon will wait, and then we will marry."

Lady Helen laughed again.

"You poor, silly, fickle child!" she said. "Don't you know perfectly well that you will fall in and out of love perhaps twenty times between now and the day that sees you of age? And don't you know, also, that Captain Carbury will do precisely the same? Has he not himself confessed as much? He was engaged to a girl who was fifty times a better match for him than you a few weeks ago; he is tired of her now; he and she have willingly broken off the engagement. For my part, I congratulate Lady Dorothy. I would not have anything to do with that fickle sort of man, not if he were to buy me a kingdom. And, mark my words, Heather, as surely as Vernon Carbury imagines that he cares for you at this moment, so surely will he forget you and turn his butterfly thoughts to someone else, when he meets a fairer face than yours. It is perfectly safe to give you leave to wait until you are twenty-one, for long before then, whatever you may choose to do – although I expect no strength about you, nor constancy, nor any of those so-called virtues – young Carbury himself will be married."

"No, no, you are not to say it!" I answered. "Father, may I speak to you by yourself? Father, darling, may I?"

"Your father is going out with me," said Lady Helen. "He is tired, and not very well, and I mean that we shall both motor into the country; we may be away even for to-night – there's no saying. We did not intend to tell you our position with regard to that exceedingly foolish and rash young man, until our return; but as you burst uninvited into my room, I may as well have it out, and then you will know how to act. Captain Carbury proposed for you, telling us the usual sort of nonsense that young men will speak on these occasions, and our answer to him was quite emphatic. We denied him admission to the house; we refused to entertain for a single moment the idea of your marrying him. We told him plainly that we had other views for you, and that nothing that he could say would get us to change them."

"Did you tell him what those views were?" I asked.

"Yes," said Lady Helen, "we did. We told him that Lord Hawtrey of Leigh, one of the best matches in London at present, had honoured you with a proposal of marriage, and that you would be his wife before the year was out."

I looked at Lady Helen while she was speaking; then I put my arms round my father's neck, and hid my face on his shoulder. He began to pat me with his big hand softly on my arm. He said, in a very low tone, "Hush, now, sweetheart; hush, now. Things will come right in the end."

But I could not listen. Lady Helen went on talking; I did not listen to her either. I was distressed beyond measure; I was distracted at what had happened. Lady Helen got up; she spoke very quietly:

"I will leave you two," she said. "Gordon, I shall expect you to be ready for our drive in half an hour's time; meanwhile, you may pet your daughter as much as you please – perhaps you can tell her one or two things which will change her opinion of me. Meanwhile, I shall go to my room and rest."

She swept out of the room; I heard the rustle of her silk petticoats. When the door closed behind her I raised my tear-dimmed face:

"Daddy, Daddy," I said, "she can't dispose of me like that – she can't take the man I love away, Daddy, and make me marry against my will a man I don't like! Oh, darling, it isn't possible, is it?"

"You shan't marry Hawtrey against your will – I promise you that," said my father.

"Then, Daddy, it's all right, because I refused him last night – I refused him absolutely. He will never ask me again."

"I think it likely that he will ask you many times, poor child."

"He mustn't – he shan't! I won't see him."

"Heather, listen to me. Sit up; don't give way. It cuts me to the heart to deny you anything, and I fully believe that Carbury is all right and as straight as possible. A gallant soldier, child – yes, a gallant soldier. Mark my words, there are no men in all the world like soldiers, Heather; they are the pick of the earth – so brave, so honourable, so true. That's what Carbury is, and if he were rich and in the same position as Hawtrey, you should be his wife with all the pleasure in the world. But, Heather, my poor little girl, I can't fight against such long odds. I could once, but, child, I am a broken man, a broken man, and I can't withstand her. She has got me into a sort of trap. She pretends she's done everything in the world for me; I was mad enough – oh! I won't speak of that – I am her husband now, and I suppose most people would think that I'd done well for myself – they'd revel in the contrast between my life of late and my life now, and say 'That beggar Grayson' – but there! I won't speak of it."

"Daddy – has – Lady Helen – got … I don't like to say – has she got a … I mean, Daddy, are you a little —tiny bit – you, a brave soldier – a little, tiny bit afraid of her?"

"Afraid!" said my father. "Poof! not a bit of it. It is she who has cause to be afraid of me. I could – and, as there is a heaven above us, I will, too – frighten her into giving me some of my own way; yes, and I will, if she doesn't act fair by you, little girl."

"Father, why don't you tell me things? You are hiding something."

"Yes," said my father; "I am hiding something, and you must never know – never, as long as you live."

"Daddy, my heart is broken."

"Poor little maid! But you will get over it. And now I have something else to say. Lady Helen is not at all bad, and you would be extremely happy as Hawtrey's wife; he's a bit old, but he's a thorough gentleman, and you'd be very rich, and Helen would deal handsomely by you – she's promised that. She's very rich, too; I wish she wasn't. There's nothing in the world more hateful than depending upon your wife's money, and that's my cursed position. But if you promised to marry Hawtrey, she'd make things a bit square for you; she's settled to do that. It's awfully kind of her; it's downright generous; it's more than most people would expect. She'd do it in her lifetime, too; she'd settle twenty thousand on you – think of that, little Heather – twenty thousand is not to be despised."

"Oh, father, if it's money, I don't care a bit about it!"

"There she is," said my father, rising suddenly; "she is calling me. Wipe away your tears and run upstairs. To-night you must show a cheerful face – whatever happens in the future, you must be cheerful to-night. Off with you now, out of my sight. Believe me, I'd cut off my right hand to help you. Bye-bye for a bit, little sweetheart."

My father left me. After a time I heard the "toot" of the motor-car as it puffed out of sight. Then I started to my feet, clasped my hands, and stood considering. There was something about me which could never stand inaction. If I were to be saved now from deadly peril, I must act. I was terribly upset; I was awfully miserable. All of a sudden I came to a resolve. I rang the bell; one of the footmen answered my summons.

"I want you to bring me the cards of the different people who have called here during the last fortnight," I said.

"Yes, miss," replied the man.

He returned in a few minutes with a number of visiting cards on a salver. I sorted them out carefully, and presently came to Lord Hawtrey's. It bore the address of his club, one of the most exclusive and distinguished clubs in London, also the address of his big country seat – Leigh Castle – and in addition his town address, 24c, Green Street.

"Lord Hawtrey is kind; he is the only one who can save me," I said to myself. I made up my mind then and there to go and visit him.

CHAPTER XIV

At that moment I had no thought of either right or wrong. I was determined to go straight forward and appeal to a very generous and chivalrous man to help me; I thought he could do it, and I believed that no one else in all the world would. I ran quickly upstairs – what a comfort it was to know that Morris was nowhere in sight, how delightful was the sensation of putting on my own hat and jacket, of tying a scarf round my neck and slipping my hands into my gloves. It was also perfectly delicious not to be obliged to look even once into the glass – little did I care at that moment how I looked!

I had a small sealskin purse; I slipped the purse inside my muff and went downstairs. Soon it would be too warm to wear muffs, for the fine summer weather was fast approaching, but I was glad of mine to-day. Perhaps my sorrow had chilled me, for I felt rather cold. A taxi-cab came slowly by; I motioned to the man to stop. I got in, telling the driver to take me to 24c, Green Street, "And go as quickly as you can," I said. I was all impatience, and the possibility of Lord Hawtrey being out did not once occur to me.

We got to Green Street in a very few minutes and drew up at the right number. There was "24c," painted in most distinct lettering on the highly-enamelled door. The door was enamelled a very soft shade of green, and I thought it looked remarkably well. I also remarked the flower boxes in each of the windows and how fresh and smart the flowers looked, but somehow they did not please me. I supposed that Lord Hawtrey had a passion for flowers, otherwise he would never have given me those roses. I hated the memory of those roses now; this time yesterday how passionately I had loved them, but now I hated them. I had supposed that they had come from my own true love, and they had in reality been the gift of an old man who might have been my father, for so I considered Lord Hawtrey.

I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver his fare, saw him move away, and then ran up the low flight of steps and rang the bell.

"Is Lord Hawtrey in?" I asked of the man in livery who attended to my summons.

A reply in the negative was instantly given to me.

"His lordship is out, miss." The man gave me a cold stare. But I was far too excited to think about his manner.

"Will he be in soon?" I asked. "I have come to see Lord Hawtrey on very important business."

"If you will step inside, miss, I will make inquiries. May I ask if his lordship is expecting you?"

"No," I answered. "This is Lady Helen Dalrymple's card; I have come from her house."

The man took the card and gave me a second glance, which now showed absolute respect. How magical was the effect of my stepmother's name! I wondered at it. I was glad that I had put a few of her cards in my purse.

In a very few minutes the servant returned to say that his lordship would be in almost immediately, and asking me if I would wish to wait in the white boudoir.

I said yes. Little did I care where I waited at that instant. The servant conducted me upstairs to a pretty room, which must have been arranged for a lady's comfort. It was furnished in white. The walls were white, so was the furniture. The only bit of colour anywhere was a very soft, very bright crimson carpet, into which one's feet sank. The effect of the crimson carpet on the white room was extremely effective. There were no pictures round the walls, but there were a great many mirrors, so that as I entered I caught the reflection of myself from many points of view. I sat down on a low chair and was glad to find that I could no longer look at my small, tired face.

The minutes passed; a little clock over the mantelpiece told me the time. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen, then there was a sound downstairs, men's voices talking together, men laughing and chatting volubly, some ladies joining in their talk. Then there was a sudden kind of hush. All the visitors entered a room a considerable way off, and a minute later there was a hurried ascending of the stairs, the door was opened with a sort of impetuosity, and Lord Hawtrey, looking slightly flushed, surprised, and not altogether pleased, entered the room.

"My dear Miss Dalrymple," he began, "I am amazed to see you here and – and charmed, of course – but is there anything wrong, is there anything I can do for you? What is it, my dear little girl?"

Lord Hawtrey dropped his society manners on the spot. With his quick, kind eyes he read the distress on my face.

"I want you to help me," I said, "I want to speak to you all alone – but you have brought visitors in. May I stay here until they go?"

"Oh, no, that won't do at all. Of course, I should be delighted to talk to you now; let me think. My sister, Lady Mary Percy, is downstairs – I will see her. She will come and talk with you."

"But it is you I want to see, Lord Hawtrey."

"Leave the matter in my hands, dear child, I'll attend to everything. By the way, where is your stepmother and where is your father to-day?"

"They have gone in the motor-car into the country."

"I will see my sister; she will be with you in a minute or two."

Lord Hawtrey left the room. I felt puzzled and distressed. I wondered if I had done wrong. A very few moments passed and then the same servant who had admitted me appeared, bearing a charming little tray which held afternoon tea for two.

"Lady Mary Percy will be here in a moment, miss," he said, "she desires you not to wait for her."

I did wait. I did not want tea, nor did I want to see Lady Mary, but in a very few minutes, true to the servant's words, she appeared. She was a very pretty woman, and looked quite young beside her brother. She had a kind, thoughtful face, a high-bred face, the face of one who had never in the whole of her life thought of anything except what was good and noble. I was certain of that the moment I saw her. I was glad now that Lord Hawtrey had asked her to come to me. In my excitement I forgot that she must think my conduct strange, and must wonder what sort of a girl I, Heather Dalrymple, was. She came up to me and held out her hand, then she looked into my face.

"Lord Hawtrey has begged of me to come and see you. Shall we have some tea together?"

She sat down at once and poured out tea for us both. She offered me a cup, and I felt that I should be very rude if I refused it. It was with difficulty I could either eat or drink, but Lady Mary seemed to expect me to do so, and for her sake I made an effort. The tea did me good, for it was strong and fragrant, the bread and butter was delicious, it did me good also. I felt more like a child and less like an anguished, storm-tossed woman than I had done before that meal. When it came to an end Lady Mary touched a silver gong, and presently a woman, dressed beautifully all in white, and whom Lady Mary called Blanche, appeared.

"Take these things away, please, Blanche," she said, "and order my carriage to be at the door in half an hour."

"Yes, my lady," replied Blanche.

She removed the tea things, the door was shut behind her, and Lady Mary and I faced each other.

"Now," she said, "you had better tell me what you intended to say to my brother, Lord Hawtrey. I can see that you are in trouble, and I should very much like to help you."

"Oh, but it is impossible to tell you," I replied.

The colour rushed into my cheeks, then it receded, leaving them very pale. I knew they were pale, for I felt so cold.

Lady Mary changed her seat. She came over, took a low chair, seated herself by my side, and stretching out her hand, clasped one of mine in hers.

"Dear," she said, in a gentle tone, "you are very young, are you not?"

"I suppose so," I answered, "but I do not feel so. I am eighteen."

"Ah! But eighteen is extremely young; I know that, who am twenty-eight; my brother Hawtrey is forty."

"I know," I said, "your brother is old, is he not? I thought I might come to see a kind old man. Have I done wrong?"

"No, child, you have not done wrong; nevertheless, you have done something that the world would not approve of. Now, I want you to come away to my house. I live in another part of London; in my house you can see my brother if you wish, but why do you not confide in me? I should like to be your friend."

I looked straight up at her. After all, she was nearer to my own age. Could I not tell her? I said impulsively:

"I will go away to your house with you and I will tell you there, and you can advise me what I ought really to do."

"Yes, I am sure that will be much the wisest plan. And now let us talk of other matters."

She began to chat in a light, winsome voice. After a time she begged of me to excuse her and went downstairs. She came back again in a few minutes.

"I have told my brother that you would tell me what you intended to say to him, and he is quite pleased with the idea," she said, "and my carriage is now at the door, so shall we go?"

"Yes," I answered.

We went downstairs together. We entered a very luxurious carriage, which was drawn by a pair of spirited bay horses. In a few minutes we found ourselves in another part of fashionable London. I cannot even to this day recall the name of the street. The house was not at all unlike Lord Hawtrey's house; it was furnished with the same severity, and the same excellent taste. Lady Mary took me into a little boudoir, which was destitute of knick-knacks and bric-à-brac. But it had many flowers, and, what I greatly enjoyed, a comfortable sense of space. My hostess drew a cushioned chair forward and desired me to sit in it; I did so. Then she seated herself and took one of my hands.

"Your story, Miss Heather Dalrymple?" she said.

"I will tell you," I answered. "Perhaps you will be dreadfully angry, but I cannot help it, you must know. I am eighteen and Lord Hawtrey is forty. I think Lord Hawtrey one of the best men in all the world; he is so kind and he has such a beautiful way with him. Last night he dined at our house and afterwards he came to see me quite by myself, and he spoke as no other man ever spoke to me before, only you must understand, please, and not be angry, that I could not do what he wanted. He wanted a very young girl like me, a girl who knows nothing at all of life, to – to marry him. Do you think that was fair or right, Lady Mary Percy?"

Lady Mary's brown eyes seemed to dance in her head. It was with an effort she suppressed something which might have been a smile or might have been a frown. After a minute's silence she said gently:

"It altogether depends on the girl to whom such a speech is addressed."

"I know that," I answered, "but this girl, the girl who is now talking to you … I cannot even try to explain to you what a simple life I have lived – just the very quietest, and with a dear, dear old lady, who is poor, and doesn't know anything about the luxuries of the rich people of London. She has brought me up, during all the years I have been with her, to think nothing whatsoever of riches; she has got that idea so firmly into my mind that I don't think it can be uprooted. So whatever happens, I am not likely to care for Lord Hawtrey because he is rich, nor to care for him because he is a nobleman or has high rank, or anything of that sort. I said to him last night: 'You don't want to force me to be your wife,' and he answered, 'You must come to me of your own free will.' Well, it is just this, Lady Mary. I can never come to him of my own free will, never, never!"

"He told me, child," said Lady Mary, in a quiet, low, very level sort of voice, "that he had spoken to you. I was a good deal astonished; I thought the advantages were on your side. You must forgive me; you have spoken frankly to me, it is my turn to speak frankly to you – I thought the disadvantages were on his side. A very young, innocent, ignorant girl, I did not think a suitable wife for my brother, but he assured me that he loved you, he assured me also that there was something about you which wins hearts. That being the case, I – well, I said no more. Now you speak to me as though I earnestly desired this marriage. I do not earnestly desire it – I don't wish for it at all."

"Then you will prevent it? How splendid of you!" I said, and I bent forward as though I would kiss her hand.

She moved slightly away from me. She was in touch with me, but not altogether in touch at that moment.

"I will tell you what has really happened," I said. "I must. I admire your brother beyond words, I know how tremendously he has honoured me, and I think somehow, if things were different, that I might feel tempted to – just to do what he wants. But things are so circumstanced that I cannot possibly do what Lord Hawtrey wishes, for I love another man. He is quite young, he – he and I love each other tremendously. He asked me this morning to be his wife and I accepted him. I was in the Park when I met him, and he asked me there and then. We walked home together, my maid was with us, so I suppose it was all right. This is a very queer world, where there seems no freedom for any young girl. I brought Vernon Carbury – "

"Whom did you say?"

"Captain Carbury, I mean. I brought him into the room with my father and mother – or my stepmother – and – he told them what he wanted. They sent me away – I was rather frightened when they did that – and when they had him all alone they spoke to him and they told him that he was to go out of my life, because, Lady Mary, your brother, Lord Hawtrey, was to come in. They said that they wanted me to marry your brother, and I won't – I can't – and I much want you to help me in this matter."

"Upon my word!" said Lady Mary. She rose abruptly and began to pace the room. "You are the queerest girl I ever met! There must be some queer sort of witchery about you. On a certain night you are proposed to by my brother Hawtrey, the head of our house, one of the richest men in England, and certainly one of the most nobly born. You snub him, just as though he were a nobody. On the following morning you receive a proposal from Vernon Carbury, he who was engaged to Lady Dorothy Vinguard."

"Yes, but all that is at an end," I said.

"I know, I know. Dorothy is not a perfectly silly girl like you, and she is marrying a man older and richer and greater than Carbury. And so you have fallen in love with him? Yes, I know; those blue eyes of his would be certain to make havoc in more than one girl's heart. It is a pretty tale, upon my word it is, and out of the common. Now you have confided things to me, I don't think Hawtrey will trouble you any more; perhaps I can see to that. Would you like to go back home – and before you go, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, oh, no," I said, "you have made me quite happy!"

"I am glad of that. You are a very strange girl; I suppose you will marry Captain Carbury some day. You are, of course, quite unaware of the fact that Hawtrey must have loved you beyond the ordinary when he made up his mind to take as a wife the daughter of Major Grayson?"

I sprang to my feet.

"What do you mean by those words?"

"Don't you know, child, don't you know?"

"I know nothing, except that my father is the best man in all the world."

Lady Mary looked at me, at first with scorn, then a strange, new, softened, pitying expression flashed over her face.

"You poor little girl!" she said. "Have you never suspected, have you never guessed, why he married Lady Helen Dalrymple, and why he took her name, and why – "

"Don't tell me any more," I said, "please don't, I would rather not know. Good-bye – you have been kind, you have meant to be very kind, but you are hinting at something quite awful – all the same, I will find out – yes, I will find out! My father do a mean thing! Indeed, you little know him. Good-bye, Lady Mary."