If all goes well--that
is, if there should be a speedy change for the better, as the medical men
who have been attending me think there may be--I shall be back perhaps in
April or May. Val--I cannot forget the old familiar name, you see--"
"I hope you never will forget it," he warmly interposed.
"I wanted very particularly to see you. A strange report was brought
here this morning and I determined to mention it to you. You know what
an old-fashioned, direct way I have of doing things; never choosing a
roundabout road if I can take a straight one. This note was a line asking
you to call upon me," she added, taking it from her lap, where it had
been lying, and tossing it on to the table, whilst her hearer, his
conscience rising up, began to feel a very little uncomfortable. "We
heard you had proposed marriage to Lady Maude Kirton."
Lord Hartledon's face became crimson. "Who on earth could have invented
that?" cried he, having no better answer at hand.
"Mrs. Graves mentioned it to me. She was dining at Hartledon last week,
and the countess-dowager spoke about it openly."
Mrs. Ashton looked at him; and he, confused and taken aback, looked down
on the carpet, devoutly wishing himself in the remote regions he had
spoken of to Mr. Carr. Anywhere, so that he should never be seen or
recognized again.
"What am I to do?" thought he. "I wish Mother Graves was hanged!"
"You do not speak, Percival!"
"Well, I--I was wondering what could have given rise to this," he
stammered.
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