It would have been horrible had Maude
fallen in love with the wrong brother, and the old lady grew to hate him
for the fear, as well as on her own score. The feeling of dislike, begun
in Val's childhood, had ripened in the last month or two to almost open
warfare. He was always in the way. Many a time when Lord Hartledon might
have enjoyed a _tete-a-tete_ with Maude, Val Elster was there to spoil
it.
But the culminating point had arrived one day, when Val, half laughingly,
half seriously, told the dowager, who had been provoking him almost
beyond endurance, that she might spare her angling in regard to Maude,
for Hartledon would never bite. But that he took his pleasant face beyond
her reach, it might have suffered, for her fingers were held out
alarmingly.
From that time she took another little scheme into her hands--that of
getting Percival Elster out of his brother's favour and his brother's
house. Val, on his part, seriously advised his brother _not_ to allow the
Kirtons to come to Hartledon; and this reached the ears of the dowager.
You may be sure it did not tend to soothe her. Lord Hartledon only
laughed at Val, saying they might come if they liked; what did it matter?
But, strange to say, Val Elster was as a very reed in the hands of the
old woman. Let her once get hold of him, and she could turn him any way
she pleased. He felt afraid of her, and bent to her will.
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