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Snowdrift and Other Stories

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He reined in, for they had reached a toll-gate. She was never more glad to be spared the necessity of answering. While he bought a ticket to open the pikes on the next stage she had time to recover her countenance, and was able to say, quite calmly, as the curricle moved forward: ‘If that man is to be believed, we have certainly gained on them, but they must be a great way ahea

d still. Where do you expect to overtake them?’

‘Not short of Stamford, unless they meet with some accident.’

They were entering Baldock, and neither spoke again until they had proceeded for some way along the road beyond the town. Lord Iver then demanded abruptly: ‘Why did you never answer me? Did you think it cost me nothing to write that letter?’

She shook her head, a constriction in her throat making it for a moment impossible for her to speak. She overcame it, and said, keeping her eyes lowered: ‘I thought it better not to reply – not to reopen – when it reached me, you see, Mama had suffered the stroke which left her paralysed. You know what our household was at the Manor! My father so dependent on her – Lucy motherless – Clara – well, there can be no need for me to explain why it was useless to suppose that Clara could fill Mama’s place!’

He had listened to her in thunderstruck silence, but at this he said, with suppressed violence: ‘And equally useless for me to tell you that nothing ever ailed Clara but jealousy, and a selfishness I have never seen surpassed! We have quarrelled enough on that head!’

She smiled. ‘We have indeed! Must I own that you were right? Perhaps you were – though it would be unjust to deny that her constitution was always sickly.’

‘I told you years ago that she would spoil your life, if she could do it! I learn now that she spoiled mine as well, thanks to your blind, obstinate refusal to credit me with more wit than you had!’

‘Nonsense!’ said Miss Tresilian. ‘You know very well that no two persons could have been less suited than we were! As for spoiled lives, I hope you don’t mean to tell me you’ve been wearing the willow for the past twelve years, because I know very well you haven’t! In fact, if only half the tales I’ve heard are true you’ve never lacked consolation!’

‘Is that what the Bath quizzes say of me? No, I haven’t worn the willow, but one tale you’ve never heard: that I was hanging out for a wife!’

‘Very true, and I think you are wise to remain single. I am persuaded you must have a much more amusing time as a bachelor.’

A muscle quivered at the corner of his mouth. ‘You haven’t altered! How often have I wanted to wring your neck for just such a remark as that!’

‘No doubt! But there is nothing to be gained by discussing what you very rightly called ancient history. We have a more important matter to decide. What’s to be done with those abominable children when we do catch them?’

‘Wring their necks!’

‘Quite impractical! I have no fancy for Newgate, if you have!’

He laughed, but said: ‘You may at least depend upon my giving Arthur the finest trimming of his life!’

‘I do, and shall be strongly tempted to do the same to Lucy! But it won’t answer, Iver: we shall be obliged to give our consent, and with as good a grace as we may.’

‘Oh, why stop at that? Let us escort them to the anvil!’

She regarded him with misgiving. ‘Iver, don’t, I implore you, get upon your high ropes! You said yourself that you could not stop the marriage if Arthur was in earnest! You can hardly want more proof of that!’

‘I can want no more proof that he hasn’t outgrown his puppy-hood! Good God, only a scoundrel or a paper-skulled schoolboy would do such a thing as this!’

‘It’s very bad, of course, but –’

‘And if he, or your hoydenish niece, think they can force my hand, they will very soon learn to know me better!’

‘Yes!’ said Miss Tresilian bitterly. ‘I might have guessed you’d turn mulish, might I not? You always did make bad worse, and you always will!’

By the time Stamford was reached, Miss Tresilian was herself so weary that she could only suppose her companion to be made of iron. More than eighty miles had been covered, often at a pace which demanded the strictest concentration, and in six hours of fast driving he had allowed himself only two brief respites. During one of these Miss Tresilian had found the time to swallow a mouthful of ham, and a few sips of scalding coffee, and on this meagre fare she had been obliged to subsist, encouraged by a disagreeable reminder from his lordship that he had warned her how it would be if she insisted on accompanying him. She forgave him for that: he sat as erect as at the start of the journey, his hands as steady and his eyes as watchful, but she knew, without the evidence of the crease between his brows, how tired he must be. No conversation had been held during the past hour; Miss Tresilian, in fact, had fallen into an uneasy doze, and woke up in the yard of the George, demanding to know where she was.

‘Stamford,’ replied Lord Iver, looking down at her. ‘Quite done up?’

‘A little tired – nothing to signify!’

‘I’ll say this for you: you were always full of pluck! Our runaways are not here, but there are two other posting-houses in the town, and several smaller inns. They may well be racking up at one of them for the night.’

‘But it is still daylight!’

‘It will be daylight for some hours yet, but it is nevertheless past six o’clock. If they knew they were being followed no doubt they would go on, but I’ve no reason to believe that they do. They have been travelling at a fair rate, but with no suggestion of flight. Come, let me help you down! You will have time to dine while I am making enquiries at the other houses.’

She agreed to this, but when he left her installed in a private parlour she discovered herself to be too anxious to be hungry. She ordered some tea, however, which revived her, though it drew a sharp rebuke from his lordship, when he presently returned to the George. ‘Don’t scold!’ she begged. ‘It was all I wanted, I promise you. And you have eaten nothing!’



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