"Nonsense, dearie! The ring is lost and gone. It can't make trouble now."

"Its loss was a bad omen, Mother."

"There is no omen against true love, Kitty. Love counts every sign a good sign."

"The Duke was very formal with me at my last visit. The d.u.c.h.ess dislikes me; and Miss Vyner has so many opportunities; it seems nearly impossible that Piers should ever marry me."

"If Piers loves you, there is no impossibility. Love works miracles.

You cannot say 'impossible' to Love. Love will find out a way."

CHAPTER NINTH

A FOOLISH VIRGIN

Parliament was adjourned on the twenty-third of December, and did not re-a.s.semble until the third of February. The interval was one of great public excitement and of great private anxiety. The country had been a.s.sured of a Government pledged to Reform; and, in the main, were waiting as patiently as men, hungry and naked, and burning with a sense of injury and injustice, could wait. But no one knew what hour a spark might be cast into such inflammable material,--that would mean Revolution instead of Reform.

Consequently life was depressed, and not disposed to any exhibition of wealth or festivity; the most heartless and reckless feeling that it would not be endured by men and women on the very verge of starvation.

The Queen also was unpopular, and the great social leaders were, as a general thing, bitter political partisans; in theatres and ball-rooms and even on the streets, the Whig and Tory ladies, when they met, looked at one another as Guelphs and Ghibellines, instead of christened English gentlewomen.

Both the d.u.c.h.ess of Richmoor and Miss Vyner were women of strong and irrepressible prejudices; and, before Parliament adjourned, they had made for themselves an environment of active, political enemies. And women carry their politics into their domestic and social life; the d.u.c.h.ess had wounded many of her oldest friends; and Annabel, with the haughty intolerance of youth and wealth, had succeeded in making herself a person whom all the ladies of the Reform party delighted either to positively offend, or to scornfully ignore.

These circ.u.mstances, with all her audacity and advantages, she was unable to control. Her brilliant beauty, her clever tongue, her ostentatious dress and display were as nothing against the united disposition of a score of other women to make her understand that they neither desired her friendship nor felt her influence; and she had at least the sense to retire from a conflict "whose weapons," she said contemptuously, "were not in her armory." This condition of affairs naturally threw her very much upon the Athelings for society. While the d.u.c.h.ess sat with a few old ladies of her own caste and political persuasion, talking fearfully of the state of English society and of the horrors Reform would inaugurate for the n.o.bility, Annabel spent her time with Mrs. and Miss Atheling, and learned to look hopefully into a future in which, perhaps, there would be neither dukes nor lords. Besides, Cecil North had a habit of visiting the Athelings also; and, without expressed arrangement, both Cecil and Annabel looked forward to those charming lunches which Mrs. Atheling dispensed with so little ceremony and so much good nature. It had been Cecil's intention to go with Edgar into the country; but when the hour for departure arrived, he had not been able to leave Annabel's vicinity, and, in some of those mysterious ways known to Love, she understood, and was pleased with this evidence of her power.

Cecil's mother had been particularly prominent in that social ostracism the Reform ladies had meted out to her; and it gave to the real liking which she had for Cecil a piquant relish to parade the young man as her devoted servant in all places where his n.o.ble mother would be likely to see or hear tell of her son's "infatuation." But Cecil North's affection, and the favour it received, did not much influence Kate. With the perversity of a woman in love, she believed Annabel to be only amusing herself during Lord Exham's absence; and she accepted, without a doubt, all the little innuendoes, and half-truths, and half-admissions which Annabel suffered herself, as it were, without intent, to make.

Thus the dreary winter days pa.s.sed slowly away. In January Edgar returned. His election had been a mere walk over the ground. The patron of the borough of Shereham had spoken the word, and Edgar Atheling was its lawful representative. It was a poor little place, but it gave Edgar a vote on the right side; and Earl Grey also hoped much from his power as a natural orator. He might take Brougham's place, and be far more amenable to directions than Brougham had ever been. Mrs. Atheling considered none of these things. She took in only the grand fact that her son was in Parliament, and that he must have won his place there by some transcendent personal merit. True, she had some little qualms of fear as to how Edgar's father would treat the new representative of Englishmen; but her invincible habit of hoping and her cheerful way of looking into the future did not suffer these pa.s.sing doubts to seriously mar her glory and pride in her son's dignity.

In fact, even in Annabel's eyes, Edgar Atheling was now an important person. Women do not consider causes, they look at results; and in Edgar Atheling's case the result was satisfactory. On the day the new member for Shereham returned home, she was lunching with the Athelings, eating her salad and playing with Cecil North's heart, when Edgar entered the room. His honour sat well on him; he neither paraded, nor yet affectedly ignored it. His mother's pride, his sister's pleasure, and the congratulations of his friends made him happy, and he showed it.

The lunch that was nearly finished was delayed for another hour. No one liked to break up the delightful meal and conversation; and when Annabel got back to Richmoor House the short day was over, and the d.u.c.h.ess had sent an escort to hurry her return.

"You are exceedingly imprudent, Annabel," she said, when the girl entered her presence; "and I do think it high time you stopped visiting so much at one house."

"d.u.c.h.ess, will you say what other house equally charming is open to me? You know how little of a favourite I am. To-day I was delayed by an event,--the return of young Atheling after his election. He is now an M. P.,--a great honour for so young a man, I think."

"Honour, indeed! Grey or Durham, or some of those renegades to their own caste, have given him a seat. Grey would give a seat to a puppy if it could bark 'aye' for him."

"Well, I should not think Atheling will be a dumb dog; he has a ready tongue. Mr. North says he will take Brougham's place."

"He will do nothing of the kind. Young Atheling is a fine talker when he has to face a mob of grumbling men on a Yorkshire moor or a city common. It is a different thing, Annabel, to stand up before the gentlemen of England. As for Mr. North, I have told you before that both the Duke and myself seriously object to that entanglement."

Annabel laughed. "There is no entanglement, d.u.c.h.ess,--that is, on my part."

"Then why throw yourself continually in the young man's way?"

"You are scarcely polite. He throws himself in my way."

"Pardon. I meant nothing disrespectful."

"And I have reasons."

"May I know them?"

"Yes. Mr. North's mother was particularly insulting to me at the last Morning Concert I attended. I heard also that she had spoken of me as 'an Indian girl of doubtful parentage.' She is particularly fond of Cecil, who is her youngest child, and she is trying to make a marriage between him and that enormously rich Miss Curzon. I am going to defeat her plans."

Then the d.u.c.h.ess laughed. "I never interfere with any woman's retributions," she said. "But do not burn yourself at the fire you kindle for others."

"I am fire-proof."

"I must think so, or surely Piers would have influenced you."

"Lord Exham never tried to 'influence' me; and only one woman in the world can 'influence' him."

"You mean Miss Atheling, of course; and I have already told you that there is not even a supposition in that case. Miss Atheling is out of the question. The Duke would never consent to such a marriage; and I would never forgive it. Never! I should prefer to lose my son altogether."

"Then you ought to let Miss Atheling know how you feel. She is a very honourable, yes, a very proud girl. She would not force herself into your family, no matter how much she loved your son. Now, I would. If I had thought you did _not_ want me to marry Lord Exham, I should probably have been his wife to-day."

The d.u.c.h.ess glanced at the speaker a little scornfully, and said, "Perhaps you over-estimate your abilities. However, Annabel, your suggestion about Miss Atheling has much likelihood. I shall make an opportunity to speak to her. Will you go out to-night? There will be the usual crush at Lady Paget's."

"Excuse me, I do not wish to go." The statement was correct. She had begun to weary of a routine of visiting that lacked decisive personal interest. She had many lovers; but even love-making grows tiresome unless it is reciprocal, or has some spice of jealousy, or some element of the chase in it. Cecil North did interest her, and Piers Exham did stimulate her desire for conquest; but Cecil was most pleasantly met at the Athelings, and Lord Exham was in Yorkshire.

So, after dining alone with the d.u.c.h.ess, she went to a little drawing-room that was her favourite resort. The great ash logs burned brightly on the white marble hearth, and threw shifting lights on the white-and-gold furnishings, on the pictured walls, on the ferns and flowers, and on the lovely marble forms of two wood nymphs among them.

She placed herself comfortably in a large easy-chair, with her back to the argand lamp, and stretched out her sandalled feet before the blaze, and nestled her head among the soft white cushions. The delicious drowsy atmosphere was a physical satisfaction of the highest order to her, quite as much so as it was to the splendid Persian cat that grumblingly resigned, at her order, the pleasantest end of the snow-white rug.

"Now I can think," she said with lazy satisfaction, as she closed her restless eyes and began the operation. "In the first place, I have set a ball rolling that I may not be able to manage. It is in the hand of the d.u.c.h.ess, and she will have no scruples--she never has, if she is fighting for her own side. Perhaps I ought not to have given her such a 'leader,' for Kate Atheling has always been kind to me--thoughtful about Cecil, ready at making excuses to let us have a little solitude, arranging shopping excursions in his presence, so that he would know where he could 'accidentally' meet us--and so on. No, it was not exactly kind; but then, in love and war, all things are fair--and I dare say Miss Kate's motives were probably selfish enough. She would give me Cecil to make her own way clear to Piers; and, also, Cecil is a favourite with the Athelings and young Atheling's friend; and they know that he is poor, and doubtless wish to help him to a rich wife.

Every one works out their own plan, why should not I do the same? But I must find out something about that ring, and, as the straight way is the best way, I will ask Kate the necessary questions. She will be sure to betray herself."

Then she opened her purse, took out the ring, and placed it upon her finger, holding up her hand to the blaze to catch its reflections. "It is a pretty little thing, but I have bought it two or three times over with my diamond locket. I wonder why Kate never wears that locket!

Is it too fine? Or has she some feeling against me? I gave her it at Christmas, and I have only seen it once on her neck--that is strange!

I never thought of it before--it really is not much of a ring--I have twenty finer ones--and I dare say I shall give it back some day: yes, of course I shall give it back--but at present--" and she stopped thinking of the demands of the present, and taking the ring off her finger laid it in the palm of her hand, and softly tossed it and the Hindoo charm up and down together ere she replaced them in their receptacle.

Evidently she had arranged things comfortably with herself, for, after closing the purse, she began to swing it by its golden chain before the cat's eyes, until the creature became thoroughly annoyed, and tried to catch the gleaming, tantalising worry with its claws. The play delighted her; she gave herself up to its tormenting charm, and for once lost, in the momentary amus.e.m.e.nt, all consciousness of herself and her appearance. It was then the great white door swung noiselessly open, and Lord Exham stood within it. The sensuous little drama, so full of colour and life, instantly arrested him; and he stood motionless to watch it. The girl's strong, vivid face, her black hair, her dress of bright scarlet, her arms and hands flashing with gems, were thrown into dazzling prominence by the chair of white brocade in which she sat, and the white rug at her feet, and the lamp shining behind her. She waved the golden purse before the cat's eyes, and let it almost fall into the eager paws, and then drew it backward with a little laugh, and was not aware that she was, in the act, an absolutely bewitching type of mere physical beauty.

But Piers was aware of it. He forgot everything but delight in the moving picture; and, as he advanced, he cried, in a voice full of pleasure, "_Annabel! Annabel!_" And the girl answered her name with an instantaneous movement towards him. Her radiant face looked into his face, and ere they were aware they had met in each other's arms and Piers had kissed her.

She was silent and smiling, and he instantly recovered himself. "I ask your pardon," he said, releasing her and bowing gravely; "but you are one of the family, you know, and I have been long away, and am so glad to get home again that some liberty must be excused me."

"Oh, indeed!" she answered, with a pretty pout, "I think the apology is the worst part of the business," and she looked into his eyes with that steady, unwinking gaze which none withstand. Then he drew her closer, and said softly, "You are simply bewildering to-night, Annabel.

How have you made yourself so beautiful?" As he spoke he led her to her seat, and drew a chair close to her side; and the cat leaped to his knee and began to loudly purr her satisfaction in her master's return.

"Are you alone to-night?" he asked. "Or perhaps you are expecting company?"

"I am alone. I expected no company; but Destiny loves surprises, and to-night she has surpa.s.sed herself. The d.u.c.h.ess has gone to Lady Paget's. I could not sacrifice myself so far. You know what her political nights are. And if it is not Relief Bills, and Reform Bills, then it is Mr. Clarkson and Anti-Slavery; and we are solemnly told to make little petticoats for the negro children if we desire to go to heaven." She laughed, and dropped her eyes, and was silent; and the silence grew dangerous. Fortunately, she herself broke the spell by asking Piers if he had seen Squire Atheling in Yorkshire.

"We came from Yorkshire together," he said. Then he began to talk about the election, and in a few minutes a butler announced his dinner, and Annabel's hour was over.