"I am going now," he replied; but at that very moment Lady Earle came up to him.
"Ronald," she said, "come into my boudoir. Your father is there he wants to see you before he goes to Holtham."
Valentine went straight to her mother's room. Lady Charteris sat waiting for her, beguiling the time with a book. She smiled as her daughter entered.
"I hope you have had a pleasant walk," she said; but both smile and words died away as she saw the expression on her daughter's face, as she bent over her mother.
"Mamma," said Valentine, gently, "all I said to you last night about Earlescourt was a great mistake--it will never be my home.
My vanity misled me."
"Have you quarreled with Ronald?" asked Lady Charteris, quietly.
"No," was the calm reply. "We are excellent friends but, mamma, I was mistaken. He did want to tell me something, but it was of his love for some one else--not for me."
"He has behaved shamefully to you!" cried Lady Charteris.
"Hush, mamma!" said Valentine. "You forget how such words humiliate me. I have refused men of far better position that Ronald Earle. Never let it be imagined that I have mistaken his intentions."
"Of course not," said her mother. "I only say it to yourself, Valentine; he seemed unable to live out of your sight--morning, noon, and night he was always by your side."
"He only wanted me to be his friend," said Valentine.
"Ah, he is selfish, like all the men!" said Lady Charteris.
"With whom has he fallen in love, my dear?"
"Do not ask me," replied Valentine. "He is in a terrible dilemma. Do not talk to me about it, mamma. I made a foolish mistake, and do not wish to be reminded of it."
Lady Charteris detected the suppressed pain in the tone of her child's voice, and instantly formed her plans.
"I think of returning tomorrow," she said. "Your father is getting impatient to have us with him. He can not come to Earlescourt himself. You say Mr. Earle is in a terrible dilemma, Valentine. I hope there will be no scandalous expose while we are here. I detest scenes."
"Lord Earle is far too proud for anything of that kind," said Valentine. "If there should be any unpleasantness, it will not appear on the surface. Mamma, you will not mention this to me again."
Valentine threw off her lace shawl and pretty hat; she then took up the book her mother had laid down.
"My walk has tired me," she said; "the sun is very warm."
She lay down upon the sofa and turned her face to the window, where the roses came nodding in.
"Stay here and read," said lady Charteris, with delicate tact.
"I am going to write my letters."
Valentine lay still, looking at the summer beauty outside. No one knew of the tears that gathered slowly in those proud eyes; no one knew of the passionate weeping that could not be stilled.
When Lady Charteris returned in two hours, Valentine had regained her calm, and there was no trace of tears in the smiles which welcomed her. Proudly and calmly she bore the great disappointment of her life. She was no tragedy queen; she never said to herself that her life was blighted or useless or burdensome. But she did say that she would never marry until she found some one with Ronald's simple chivalry, his loyal, true nature, and without the weakness which had caused and would cause so much suffering.
