Chapter XLVIII

Fane was angry with himself next morning to perceive how anxiously he looked for Lady Lee’s entrance to the breakfast-room. He looked in vain, however; she breakfasted in her own room; and when the meal was finished, he set off, without having seen her, to keep his appointment with Miss Fillett.

Kitty was lingering about a milestone when Fane came up, and, appearing in great distress lest any one should see her talking to him, she got over a stile when she saw him coming, and walked along a bypath.

Kitty’s conscience had, as she said, smitten her since the loss of Julius for the share which she had taken in Bagot’s schemes, and she now, as soon as Fane reached her, began, with much circumlocutory penitence, to hint at what she called her lady’s parshality for Fane--told what she knew of the Colonel’s design on Sloperton, and how she had helped to forward it--mentioned the circumstances which gave Bagot his power over Lady Lee--and, lastly, described the final exit which Sloperton had made in apparent discomfiture from the Heronry. She naturally took some pains to excuse her own complicity, but she might have spared them; Fane attended to, and cared for, nothing but the leading facts, which showed him how he had been imposed on; and when she stopt, he actually caught Kitty round the neck and kissed her.

“Good Hevins, Captain!” said Miss Fillett, who, probably from surprise, had submitted quietly to the salute, “why, I never! ain’t you ashamed? Do behave, sir!”

“’Twas a kiss of pure gratitude,” said Fane, “and might have been given by a hermit to a saint, Kitty. I shall always look on you as a benefactor.”

“And--and--you’ll speak to my lady for me, sir?” said Kitty.

“To be sure I will,” said Fane, “only you mustn’t intrigue any more with the Colonel,” he added, laughing.

He was hastening off, when he suddenly remembered that he had intended to ask Kitty if she had seen anything of the dragoon Onslow in Frewenham, and hurried back to put the question.

In reply, Miss Fillett dived down into her pocket, and extracting therefrom a yellow printed paper, she unfolded it, smoothed out the creases against her knee, and gave it to Fane.

It was a playbill, and announced, under the special patronage of the mayor and corporation of Frewenham, Sheridan’s comedy of the Rivals for that night.

“Well, Kitty, what has this to do with the matter?” asked Fane. Kitty pointed to the list of _dramatis personæ_.

“‘_Sir Anthony Absolute_--Mr Cavendish,’” Fane read. “‘_Captain Absolute_--Mr Onslow.’ What, he’s gone on the stage, then!” Fane paused to consider. He had plenty to occupy him that morning; it must have been very urgent business indeed that would keep him that morning away from Larches; he could see his cousin as well at night, as now--yes; he would go to the play, see him act, and discover himself afterwards.

“I knew him the minute I set eyes on him,” said Kitty, “for all he have shaved off his mustache. They say he acts beautiful--and I must own to a sinful wish to see him. But plays,” added Kitty piously, “is vanity.”

“Come to-night, Kitty,” said Fane, dropping his purse into the pocket of her apron; “perhaps we may have occasion for a little more talk together, since you seem to know so much of what’s been going on at the Heronry, and I can’t spare a moment to hear it now. Come by all means, Kitty, and I’ll promise you absolution,” and he once more quitted her, going back at his swiftest pace to Larches; while Miss Fillett, after a short struggle with herself, determined to see Onslow act that night, let the Rev. Mr Fallalove and Co. say what they might about it.

Fane entered the drawing-room at Larches, just as Lady Lee was going out by another door. She turned a pale tearful face towards him, and was going to give him a distant salutation, when the slight movement was arrested, and the expression changed to one of surprise, as he hurried up and seized her hand.

“I have a long explanation to give,” he said, “and then I think you will forgive me. But first let me say what has been on my mind for this long time,” which he did in three words.

Lady Lee did not carry out her original intention of quitting the room; in fact, she forgot it altogether. She allowed him to lead her to a seat, and listened with deep attention. Fane had a turn for arrangement, and therefore (after the compendious preamble or overture of three words above-mentioned) he began his tale at the beginning. He told Lady Lee, with a degree of eloquence that altogether astonished himself, how he had first admired, secondly loved her; how her seemingly capricious treatment of him had caused him to alternate between hope and despair--and of his interview with Josiah; and to all this her ladyship listened with the sweetest patience, her eyes being sometimes downcast, sometimes fixed on Fane. But when he told her of the consent which Sloperton had procured and exhibited to him, patience gave way to indignation; her eyes, neither downcast nor fixed on Fane, sparkled with anger, which was presently quenched in tears. This stage passed, he told of his dreary existence since, and of his efforts to forget her--of the cause of his coming to Larches, involving the episode of his cousin Langley and Orelia; and wound up his epic by swearing he was now the happiest rascal in existence, and kissing her ladyship’s hand.

She, too, had a little tale to tell--of her unhappiness and anxiety--her futile attempts to account for his sudden departure and continued absence; and it is really enough to make one ashamed of one’s species, and to cause one to believe in Rochefoucault, Thackeray, and other cynic philosophers, to know that Fane listened to this account of her woes with positive pleasure, and was raised to a state bordering on rapture at hearing that the night before had been passed by her in sleeplessness and tears.

They got no farther than this before lunch; but Orelia, seeing at a glance how things were going, left them alone together after that meal--and the conclusion they arrived at before dinner was this, that after an interval granted to Hester’s sorrow, they should be married--with Bagot’s consent, if that were obtainable by purchase, or otherwise--if not, they would be married without it, and let him do his worst.