"I saw his hideous, discolored face--I am never blind in my dreams! I felt his blue hand put the ring on my finger. Wait! The worst part of it is to come. I married Nugent Dubourg willingly--married him without a thought of my engagement to Oscar. Yes! yes! I know it's only a dream. I can't bear to think of it, for all that. I don't like to be false to Oscar even in a dream. Let us go to him. I want to hear him tell me that he loves me. Come to Browndown. I'm so nervous, I don't like going by myself. Come to Browndown!"
I have another humiliating confession to make--I tried to get off going to Browndown. (So like those unfeeling French people, isn't it?)
But I had my reason too. If I disapproved of the resolution at which Nugent had arrived, I viewed far more unfavorably the selfish weakness on Oscar's part, which had allowed his brother to sacrifice himself. Lucilla's lover had sunk to something very like a despicable character in my estimation. I felt that I might let him see what I thought of him, if I found myself in his company at that moment.
"Considering the object that you have in view, my dear," I said to Lucilla, "do you think you want me at Browndown?"
"Haven't I already told you?" she asked impatiently. "I am so nervous--so completely upset--that I don't feel equal to going out by myself. Have you no sympathy for me? Suppose you had dreamed that you were marrying Nugent instead of Oscar?"
"Ah, bah! what of that? I should only have dreamed that I was marrying the most agreeable man of the two."
"The most agreeable man of the two! There you are again--always unjust to Oscar."
"My love! if you could see for yourself, you would learn to appreciate Nugent's good qualities, as I do."
"I prefer appreciating Oscar's good qualities."
"You are prejudiced, Lucilla."
"So are you!"
"You happen to have met Oscar first."
"That has nothing to do with it."
"Yes! yes! If Nugent had followed us, instead of Oscar; if, of those two charming voices which are both the same, one had spoken instead of the other--"
"I won't hear a word more!"
"Tra-la-la-la! It happens to have been Oscar. Turn it the other way--and Nugent might have been the man.
"Madame Pratolungo, I am not accustomed to be insulted! I have no more to say to you."
With that dignified reply, and with the loveliest color in her face that you ever saw in your life, my darling Lucilla turned her pretty back on me, and set off for Browndown by herself.
Ah, my rash tongue! Ah, my nasty foreign temper! Why did I let her irritate me? I, the elder of the two--why did I not set her an example of self-control? Who can tell? When does a woman know why she does anything? Did Eve know--when Mr. Serpent offered her the apple--why she ate it? not she!
What was to be done now? Two things were to be done. First thing:--To cool myself down. Second thing:--To follow Lucilla, and kiss and make it up.
Either I took some time to cool--or, in the irritation of the moment, Lucilla walked faster than usual. She had got to Browndown before I could overtake her. On opening the house-door, I heard them talking. It would hardly do to disturb them--especially now I was in disgrace. While I was hesitating, and wondering what my next proceeding had better be, my eye was attracted by a letter lying on the hall-table. I looked (one is always inquisitive in those idle moments when one doesn't know what to do)--I looked at the address. The letter was directed to Nugent; and the post-mark was Liverpool.
I drew the inevitable conclusion. The German oculist was in England!
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
He crosses the Rubicon
I WAS still in doubt, whether to enter the room, or to wait outside until she left Browndown to return to the rectory--when Lucilla's keen sense of hearing decided the question which I had been unable to settle for myself. The door of the room opened; and Oscar advanced into the hall.
"Lucilla insisted that she heard somebody outside," he said. "Who could have guessed it was you? Why did you wait in the hall? Come in! come in!"
He held open the door for me; and I went in. Oscar announced me to Lucilla. "It was Madame Pratolungo you heard," he said. She took no notice either of him or of me. A heap of flowers from Oscar's garden lay in her lap. With the help of her clever fingers, she was sorting them to make a nosegay, as quickly and as tastefully as if she had possessed the sense of sight. In all my experience of that charming face, it had never looked so hard as it looked now. Nobody would have recognized her likeness to the Madonna of Raphael's picture. Offended--mortally offended with me--I saw it at a glance.
"I hope you will forgive my intrusion, Lucilla, when you know my motive," I said. "I have followed you here to make my excuses."
"Oh, don't think of making excuses!" she rejoined, giving three-fourths of her attention to the flowers, and one-fourth to me. "It's a pity you took the trouble of coming here. I quite agree with what you said in the garden. Considering the object I had in view at Browndown, I could not possibly expect you to accompany me. True! quite true!"
I kept my temper. Not that I am a patient woman: not that I possess a meek disposition. Very far from it, I regret to say. Nevertheless, I kept my temper--so far.
"I wish to apologize for what I said in the garden," I resumed. "I spoke thoughtlessly, Lucilla. It is impossible that I could intentionally offend you."
I might as well have spoken to one of the chairs. The whole of her attention became absorbed in the breathless interest of making her nosegay.
"Was I offended?" she said, addressing herself to the flowers. "Excessively foolish of me, if I was." She suddenly became conscious of my existence. "You had a perfect right to express your opinion," she said loftily. "Accept my excuses if I appeared to dispute it."
She tossed her pretty head; she showed her brightest color; she tapped her nice little foot briskly on the floor. (Oh, Lucilla! Lucilla!) I still kept my temper. More, by this time (I admit,) for Oscar's sake than for her sake. He looked so distressed, poor fellow--so painfully anxious to interfere, without exactly knowing how.
"My dear Lucilla!" he began. "Surely you might answer Madame Pratolungo----"
She petulantly interrupted him, with another toss of the head--a little higher than the last.
"I don't attempt to answer Madame Pratolungo! I prefer admitting that Madame Pratolungo may have been quite right. I dare say I am ready to fall in love with the first man who comes my way. I dare say--if I had met your brother before I met you--I should have fallen in love with him. Quite likely!"
"Quite likely--as you say,"--answered poor Oscar, humbly. "I am sure I think it very lucky for me, that you didn't meet Nugent first."
She threw her lapful of flowers away from her on the table at which she was sitting. She became perfectly furious with him for taking my side. I permitted myself (the poor child could not see it, remember), the harmless indulgence of a smile.