The Greatest Novels of Charles Reade. Charles Reade Reade

      "Not even that. And, as for Mr. Gaunt, I am not his enemy."

      "Oh no, of course not. You are his best friend. Witness his arm at this moment."

      "I am his rival; but not his enemy: I'll give you a proof." Then he lowered his voice, and said in her ear: "You are grieved at his losing Bolton; and, as you are very generous, and noble-minded, you are all the more grieved because his loss is your gain." (Kate blushed at this shrewd hit.) Neville went on: "You don't like him well enough to marry him; and, since you cannot make him happy, it hurts your good heart to make him poor."

      "It is you for reading a lady's Heart," said Kate, ironically.

      George proceeded steadily. "I'll show you an easy way out of this dilemma."

      "Thank you," said Kate, rather insolently.

      "Give Mr. Gaunt Bolton and Hernshaw, and give me—your hand."

      Kate turned and looked at him with surprise: she saw by his eye it was no jest. For all that, she effected to take it as one. "That would be long and short division," said she: but her voice faltered in saying it.

      "So it would," replied George, coolly; "for Bolton and Hernshaw both are not worth one finger of that hand I ask of you. But the value of things lies in the mind that weighs 'em. Mr. Gaunt, you see, values Bolton and Hernshaw very highly; why, he is in despair at losing them. Look at him; he is getting rid of his reason before your very eyes, to drown his disappointment."

      "Oh, that is it, is it?" And, strange to say, she looked rather relieved.

      "That is it, believe me: it is a way we men have. But, as I was saying, I don't care one straw for Bolton and Hernshaw. It is you I love; not your land nor your house, but your sweet self: so give me that, and let the lawyers make over this famous house and lands to Mr. Gaunt. His antagonist I have been in the field, and his rival I am and must be, but not his enemy, you see, and not his ill-wisher."

      Kate was softened a little. "This is all mighty romantic," said she, "and very like a prolix chevalier, as you are; but you know very well he would fling land and house in your face if you offered them him on these terms."

      "Ay, in my face if I offered them; but not in yours if you."

      "I am sure he would, all the same."

      "Try him."

      "What is the use?"

      "Try him."

      Kate showed symptoms of uneasiness. "Well, I will," said she, stoutly. "No, that I will not. You begin by bribing me; and then you would set me to bribe him."

      "It is the only way to make two honest men happy."

      "If I thought that?"

      "You know it. Try him."

      "And suppose he says nay?"

      "Then we shall be no worse than we are."

      "And suppose he says ay?"

      "Then he will wed Bolton Hall and Hernshaw; and the pearl of England will wed me."

      "I have a great mind to take you at your word," said Kate; "but no; it is really too indelicate."

      George Neville fixed his eyes on her. "Are you not deceiving yourself?" said he. "Do you not like Mr. Gaunt better than you think? I begin to fear you dare not put him to this test: you fear his love would not stand it?"

      Kate colored high, and tossed her head proudly.

      "How shrewd you gentlemen are," she said. "Much you know of a lady's heart. Now the truth is I don't know what might happen were I to do what you bid me. Nay, I'm wiser than you would have me, and I'll pity Mr. Gaunt at a safe distance, if you please, sir."

      Neville bowed gravely: he felt sure this was a plausible evasion; and that she really was afraid to apply his test to his rival's love.

      So now for the first time he became silent and reserved by her side. The change was noticed by Father Francis, and he fixed a grave remonstrating glance on Kate. She received it, understood it, affected not to notice it, and acted upon it.

      Drive a donkey too hard; it kicks.

      Drive a man too hard; it hits.

      Drive a woman too hard; it cajoles.

      Now amongst them they had driven Kate Peyton too hard; so she secretly formed a bold resolution; and, this done, her whole manner changed for the better. She turned to Neville, and flattered and fascinated him. The most feline of her sex could scarcely equal her calinerie on this occasion. But she did not confine her fascination to him. She broke out, pro bono publico, like the sun in April, with quips and cranks and dimpled smiles, and made everybody near her quite forget her late hauteur and coldness, and bask in this sunny sweet hostess. When the charm was at its height, the Siren cast a seeming merry glance at Griffith, and said to a lady opposite, "Methinks some of the gentlemen will be glad to be rid of us," and so carried the ladies off to the drawing-room.

      There, her first act was to dismiss her smiles without ceremony, and her second was to sit down and write four lines to the gentleman at the head of the dining-table.

      And he was as drunk as a fiddler.