"I am Frank Etheridge," said Frank, looking up at Lord Charles, as the latter stopped at the little gate in the lane. "Yes, I am Frank Etheridge." And as he repeated the sentence, a shy, almost a timid, apprehensive expression came into his eyes.
"All right," said Lord Charles, looking round with a most inconsistent look of caution on his frank, handsome face. "Then I have a letter for you."
"For me!" said Frank, and his face paled.
Lord Charles eyed him with astonishment.
"What is the matter?" he said. "What are you alarmed at? I am not a bailiff—I am only Mercury." And he chuckled at the joke at his own expense. "I have a letter for you—from my friend Lord Leycester."
Frank's face lit up, and he held out his hand promptly.
Lord Charles took the letter from his pocket and turned it over quickly.
"It's got tumbled and creased," he said. "Fact is, I ought to have given it to you an hour or two ago, but I was led on to tennis and forgot it."
"Oh, it's all right," said Frank, eagerly. "I am very much obliged, sir. Won't you come in? My father and my cousin Stella will be glad to see you."
But Lord Charles shook his head, and glanced at the pretty cottage, with its air of peace which surrounded it, with something like a pang of remorse.
"I do hope this will all turn out right," he thought. "Leycester means well, but he is as likely as not to bungle it in one of his mad humors!" Then aloud, he said, "No, I won't come in, but——" he hesitated a moment, "but will you tell your cousin—Miss Etheridge, that—that——" Simple Lord Charles hesitated and took off his hat, and stared at the maker's name for a moment. "Well, look here, you know, if either you or she want any assistance—want a friend, you know—come to me. I shall be at the Hall. You understand, don't you? My name is Guildford."
Frank nodded, and took Lord Charles's extended hand.
"Thank you, very much, Lord Guildford," he said.
And Lord Charles, with another rather rueful glance at the cottage, retired.
Frank tore open the envelope and devoured the contents[177] of the short and pregnant note, then he went in search of Stella.
She was sitting at the organ, not playing, but touching the keys with her fingers, a rapt look of meditation on her face. Mr. Etheridge was hard at work making the best of the golden evening light.
Stella started as the boy came in, and would have spoken, but he put his finger to his lips and beckoned her.
They both passed out without attracting the attention of the absorbed artist, and Frank drew Stella into the garden, and to a small arbor at the further end. She looked at his flushed, excited face with a smile.
"What does this mysterious conduct mean, Frank?" she asked.
He put his arm round her and drew her to a seat.
"I've got something for you, Stella," he said. "What will you give me for it? It is worth—well, untold treasure, but I'll be satisfied with a kiss."
She bent and kissed his forehead.
"Of course it is nothing," she said, with a laugh; but as he took the letter from his pocket and held it up her face changed. "What is it Frank?"
He put the letter in her hand, and, with an instinctive delicacy got up and walked away.
"Read it, Stel," he said. "I'll be back directly."
Stella took the letter and opened it. When Frank came back she was sitting with the open letter in her hand, her face very pale, her eyes filled with a strange light.
"Well!" he said.
"Oh Frank," she breathed, "I cannot do it! I cannot!"
"Cannot!" he exclaimed. "You must! Why, Stella, of what are you afraid? I shall be with you."
She shook her head slowly.
"It is not that. I am not afraid," and there was a touch of pride in her voice. "Do you think I am afraid of—of Leycester?"
"No!" he retorted. "I should think not! I would trust him, if I were in your place, to the end of the world. I know what he has asked you to do, Stel, and you—we—must do it!"
Stella looked at him.
"And uncle!"
The boy colored, but his eyes met hers steadily.
"Well, it will not hurt him! He will not mind. He likes Lord Leycester, and when we come back and tell him he will be only too grateful that it is all over without any fuss or trouble. You know that, Stel!"
She did know it, but her heart still misgave her. With a touch of color in her pale face at the thought of what "it" meant, she said gently. "He has been a father to me, Frank; ah, you do not know!"
"Yes, I do," he said, shortly; "but a husband is more than a father, Stella. And my father won't be any the less fond of you because you are Lady Leycester Wyndward!"
[178]
"Oh, hush—hush!" breathed Stella, glancing round as if she feared the very shrubs and flowers might hear.
Frank threw himself beside her, and laying his hand on her arm, looked up into her beautiful face with eager entreaty.
"You will go, Stel; you will do what he asks!" and Stella looked down at him with gentle wonder. Leycester himself could not have pleaded his own cause more earnestly.
"Don't you see, Stel?" he said, answering her look, for she had not spoken; "I would do anything for him—anything! He risked his life for me, but it is not only that; it is because he has treated me so—so—well, I can't explain; but I would do anything for him, Stella. I—I love you! you know; but—but I feel as if I should hate you if you refused to do what he asks!"
Stella's eyes glistened; it made her heart throb to hear the boy's championship of the man she loved.
"Besides," he continued; "why should you hesitate? For it is for your own happiness—for the happiness of us all! Think! you will be the future Countess of Wyndward, the mistress of the Hall."
Stella looked at him reproachfully.
"Frank!"
"Yes, I know you don't care about that, neither do I much, but other people will. My father will be glad—he could not help being so, and then you will be safe."
"Safe? What do you mean?" asked Stella.
He hesitated. Then he looked up at her with an angry resentful flash in his blue eyes.
"Stel! I was thinking of that fellow Adelstone. I don't like him! I hate him, in fact; and I hate him all the more because he has set his mind upon having you."
Stella smiled and shook her head.
"Oh, of ............