News that came up that morning from the Rectory did not tend to assuage
her fears. The poor dairymaid had died in the night, and another servant,
one of the men, was sickening. Even Lord Hartledon looked grave: and the
countess-dowager wormed a half promise from him, in the softened feelings
of the moment, that he would not visit the infected house.
Before an hour was over he came to her to retract it. "I cannot be so
unfeeling, so unneighbourly, as not to call," he said. "Even were my
relations not what they are with Miss Ashton, I could not do it. It's of
no use talking, ma'am; I am too restless to stay away."
A little skirmish of words ensued. Lady Kirton accused him of wishing to
sacrifice them to his own selfish gratification. Lord Hartledon felt
uncomfortable at the accusation. One of the best-hearted men living, he
did nothing in his vacillation. He would go in the evening, he said to
himself, when they could not watch him from the house.
But she was clever at carrying out her own will, that countess-dowager;
more than a match for the single-minded young man. She wrote an urgent
letter to Dr. Ashton, setting forth her own and her daughter's danger if
her nephew, as she styled him, was received at the Rectory; and she
despatched it privately.
It brought forth a letter from Dr. Ashton to Lord Hartledon; a kind but
peremptory mandate, forbidding him to show himself at the Rectory until
the illness was over.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213