"Good enough. He is all right," said Mrs. Wilders, dismissing inquiry
for her husband in these few brusque words.
"I can't think of him just now," she went on. "It is you and your
great sorrow that fill all my heart. Oh, Lydstone! dear Lord Lydstone,
the pity of it!"
This tender commiseration was very captivating. But the low, sweet
voice seemed to have lost its charm.
"I think I told you yesterday, Mrs. Wilders, that I intended to return
to England," said Lord Lydstone, in a cold, hard voice.
"Yes; when do you start?"
"To-morrow, I think. Have you any commands?"
"You do not offer me a passage home?"
"Well, you see, I am travelling post haste," he answered. "I shall
only go in the yacht as far as Trieste, and then on overland. I fear
that would not suit you?"
"I should be perfectly satisfied"--she was not to be put off--"with
any route, provided I go with you."
"You are very kind, Mrs. Wilders," he said, more stiffly, but visibly
embarrassed. "I think, however, that as I shall travel day and night I
had better--"
"In other words, you decline the pleasure of my company," she said, in
a voice of much pique.
It was very plain that she had no longer any influence over him.
"But why are you in such a desperate hurry, Lord Lydstone?" she went
on.
"I have had letters, urging me to hurry home.
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