Arthur had given up hope of winning Barbara, but the thought that the bookbinder fellow might now sweep her off her feet swelled his heart with yet fiercer jealousy. Yet Arthur was not a bad fellow as fellows go. He was only a man out for himself, believing that every man must be for himself, and count anyone who stood in his way an enemy. He was simply a man who had not begun to stop being a devil.

At breakfast lady Ann was almost attentive to her stepson. As it happened, they were left alone at the table. Suddenly she addressed him.

“Richard, I have one request to make of you,” she said. “I hope you will grant it to me.”

“I will if I can,” he answered, “but I must not promise without knowing what it is.”

“You do not feel bound to please me, I know! I have the misfortune not to be your mother!”

“I do feel bound to please you where I can, and shall be more than glad to do so.”

“It is a small thing I am going to ask. I should not have thought of mentioning it but for the terms you seem to be on with Mr. Wingfold.”

“I hope to see him within an hour or so.”

“I thought so. Do you happen to remember a small person who came a good deal about the house when you were at work here?”

“If your ladyship means Miss Wylder, I remember her perfectly.”

“It is necessary to let you know, and then I shall leave the matter to your good sense, that Mrs. Wylder—and, indeed the girl herself at various times—has behaved to me with such rudeness that you cannot in ordinary decency have acquaintance with them. I mention it in case Mr. Wingfold should want to take you to see them. They are parishioners of his.”

“I am sorry I must disappoint you,” said Richard.

Lady Ann rose with a gray glitter in her eyes.

“Am I to understand that you intend calling on the Wylders?” she said.

“I have imperative reasons for calling upon them this very morning,” answered Richard, rising.

“I am sorry you should so immediately show your antagonism!” said lady Ann.

“My obligations to Miss Wylder are such that I must see her at the first possible opportunity.”

“Have you asked your father’s permission?”

“I have not,” answered Richard, and left the room hurriedly.

The next moment he was out of the house. Lady Ann might go to his father, and he would gladly avoid the necessity of disobeying him the first morning after his return. He did not know how small her influence was with her husband.

He took the path across the fields, and ran until he was out of sight of Mortgrange.

52. Heart-to-Heart

— Fifty-Two —

Heart to Heart