Berkeley had been watching my interview with Louisa narrowly, and took in our whole situation at a glance, or thought he did so.
He feared that Lady Louisa's gaiety was a little too spasmodic to be real, in one who was usually calm and reserved; and, hence, that it cloaked some deeper emotion than met the eye. My sensation at her appearance, and during the whole interview, must have been apparent even to a less interested spectator than Berkeley, and his whole soul became stirred by emotions of jealousy, rivalry, and revenge!
Having had the full entree of Chillingham Park for the last month and more, he had, as he conceived, made a fair lodgment, to use a military phrase, in the body of the place--that he had the cards in his own hands, and should lose no time in discovering how Lady Louisa was affected towards him.
Cool, vain, insolent, and unimpassioned, this blase parvenu thought over his plans while the phaeton rolled along the Canterbury Road; and the aristocratic aspect of the coroneted gate and castellated lodge, the far extent of green sward stretching under the stately elms, closely shorn and carefully rolled--sward that had never been ploughed since the days, perhaps, when the Scot and Englishman measured their swords at Flodden and Pinkey, kindled brighter the fire of ambition with him, and made him resolve at all hazards to supplant me.
One fact he had resolved on--that, though the days of bodily assassination had gone out of English society, or existed only in the pages of sensational romance, if he failed to obtain Louisa Loftus, that I should never succeed.
*CHAPTER XX.*
Not thus the shade may pass, That is upon thy heart, There is no sun in earthly skies Can bid its gloom depart;
For falsehood's stain is on it, And cruelty and guile-- And these are stains that never pass, And shades that never smile. MISS LANDON.
The mansion of Chillingham is one of the stateliest in that part of England.
It consists of a great central block and peristyle, with two wings coming forward, forming a species of quadrangle. Detailed in the taste that existed about 1680, and erected by the second peer of the house, who had been created an earl at the Restoration, it was built entirely of red brick, save the eight Corinthian columns of the peristyle, the great flight of steps that ascended thereto, the elaborate cornices, corners, balustrades, and vases, which were all of white freestone, and in the style that is denominated Palladian.
Elaborately carved within the central pediment are the arms of the Loftus family--a chevron engrailed between three trefoils, supported by two eagles; the crest a hand grasping a battle-axe, with the motto, "_Prend mot tel que je suis_," or "Take me as I am."
It occupies a gentle eminence in the centre of the spacious park, and every embellishment has been added around to make the natural beauties of the somewhat flat and peaceful scene to harmonize. Though equally aristocratic in tone, it is very different in aspect from the bold and quaint, gloomy, embattled, and romantic mansion of Calderwood, with its turrets and loopholes for bullet or arrow; and is, in fact, a style of edifice almost entirely peculiar to England and Holland.
Cora and Berkeley were as yet the only guests at the park, and on handing the ladies from the phaeton, he begged a few minutes' interview with Lady Louisa, in the library or the conservatory, whichever she pleased, after luncheon.
She coloured deeply, almost with annoyance, at a request so odd, and looking at her watch, said--
"We lunch at two. Papa and mamma are in Canterbury; I have letters to write, but shall be in the library at six--that is, two hours before dinner."
"Thanks; after we have tiffed then," said he, lifting his hat, and passing after her and Cora into the marble vestibule, with a self-satisfied smile.
"What on earth can the man have to say in such a solemn fashion, Cora?" whispered Louisa.
"I cannot conceive," replied my cousin, thinking of something else.
The luncheon, at which those three were present, with a great whiteheaded and white-waistcoated butler, and three powdered and liveried servants in attendance, passed over almost in irksome silence, for all were fully occupied by their own thoughts or plans.
Berkeley, who gazed at Louisa from time to time with ill-concealed admiration and gratified vanity, felt that the absence of the earl and countess at this interesting juncture boded well for his success, opportunities for a tete-a-tete in that usually numerous and always aristocratic household being few and far between.
Lady Louisa, who more than half divined her admirer's hopes, was full of her brief and hurried interview with me, and, in anticipation of a scene, felt bored and worried; while poor Cora's thoughts were all her own; a little--no, it was a great sorrow, which none could know or sympathize with, filled her heart in secret, for she was not communicative, and thus, while she shared all the confidences and gossip of my Lady Louisa, gave but little of her own in return.
So the progress of tiffin was "dooced slow," as Berkeley thought it, and he felt somewhat relieved when Lady Louisa rose, and, with a smile, said to Cora--
"Excuse me, I am now going to write my letters;" adding to him, "I shall not forget," with another smile that, could he have read it aright, boded but little success to his cherished plans.
Punctually to the time, Lady Louisa sailed into the library, where Berkeley, whose courage had been alternately ebbing and flowing, was in waiting. He handed her a seat, and, after a few deprecatory remarks, by way of preface, took her right hand between his own, and, as she did not immediately withdraw it, he assumed fresh courage, and made a formal declaration of his love and admiration of her, and then, before she could speak, he rambled on about his finances, his social habits, his income--some six thousand per annum--his further expectations, and a great deal more to the same purpose.
Lady Louisa remained perfectly silent, and this silence, as he had nothing more to say, caused him infinite confusion.
"You do not speak--you do not answer, dear Lady Louisa. Do you not understand me? I tell you that I love you with all the devotion of which the human heart is capable, and I pray you to pardon the--aw, aw--presumption of one in every respect so unworthy of you, in venturing to address you in the language of love; but who can control the--aw--emotions of the heart!"
Still she did not speak.
"Say that you pity--say that you--aw--understand me!" he urged.
"I understand, but cannot pity you," replied Louisa, calmly and without betraying the slightest flutter or embarrassment. "And I beg to assure you that--that, in this matter, you must----"
"Address the earl, your father, dearest Lady Louisa--aw, aw--in writing, or verbally?" was the cool and rapid question.
"Neither verbally nor in writing," said she, rising, and assuming a dignity of bearing that made Berkeley feel himself intolerably little.
"Aw, aw--the dooce! Then how?" he asked, having recourse to his eyeglass.
"I was about to say that I thank you, Mr. Berkeley--thank you very much indeed--for the great honour you do me in addressing me thus, and in making me such an offer; but you must strive to dismiss all such thoughts from your breast in future, as I could never, never love you! Pardon me an avowal so very painful, and permit me to leave you."
Her coolness, and almost unmoved bearing, piqued Berkeley, and wounded his self-esteem, which was inordinate.
"Your bridal flowers," said he, with a bitter smile, "must be blended with the faded strawberry leaves of some Anglo-Norman line, I presume?"
"Not so, sir. I have hopes, I admit, but they are not quite so high," she replied, with a calm and steady glance, though her short upper lip quivered with suppressed pride and anger.
"In--deed!" sneered Berkeley, as his habitual insolence came now thoroughly to his aid; "and so you once and for all actually refuse me, Lady Loftus?"
"I grieve to say, sir, that I do--once and for ever. Let us endeavour to forget this very unpleasant scene, and, if possible, be as before--friends."
"And for whom do you refuse me?" he demanded, as pride and jealousy rendered him blind to all future consequences.
"For whom, sir, matters not to you."
"I think it matters very much to me."
"Perhaps; but permit me to remind you, Mr. Berkeley, that I am unused to be questioned thus."
"Oh," said he, bowing low, "doocid good. I--aw--crave your pardon; but if you will not tell me your preference, Lady Louisa, shall I have the honour of telling you?"
"If you please," she replied, turning half away, and shrugging her shoulders, while her colour deepened, and her dark eyes gleamed with sudden anger.
"It is for one who is even now, perhaps, with a worthless creature, whose society he prefers to yours--haw! haw! the cast-off mistress of a brother officer!"
"It is false, sir!" she exclaimed, in an agitated voice, as she turned her flashing eyes full upon him, and drew her tall and glorious figure up like a tragedy queen; "it is false, and cannot be."