Mistress Wilding | Page 8

lists of rivalry with Blake.
Upon Wilding, indeed, and his notorious masterfulness did she found
what hopes she still entertained of winning back Sir Rowland.
"Surely," said she, "you are a little hard on Mr. Wilding. You speak as
if he were the first gallant that ever toasted lady's eyes."
"I am no lady of his, Diana," Ruth reminded her, with a faint show of
heat.
Diana shrugged her shoulders. "You may not love him, but you can't
ordain that he shall not love you. You are very harsh, I think. To me it

rather seems that Richard acted like a boor."
"But, mistress," cried Sir Rowland, half out of countenance, and stifling
his vexation, "in these matters it all depends upon the manner."
"Why, yes," she agreed; "and whatever Mr. Wilding's manner, if I
know him at all, it would be nothing but respectful to the last degree."
"My own conception of respect," said he, "is not to bandy a lady's name
about a company of revellers."
"Bethink you, though, you said just now, it all depended on the
manner," she rejoined. Sir Rowland shrugged and turned half from her
to her listening cousin. When all is said, poor Diana appears - despite
her cunning - to have been short-sighted. Aiming at a defined
advantage in the game she played, she either ignored or held too lightly
the concomitant disadvantage of vexing Blake.
"It were perhaps best to tell us the exact words he used, Sir Rowland,"
she suggested, "that for ourselves we may judge how far he lacked
respect."
"What signify the words!" cried Blake, now almost out of temper. "I
don't recall them. It is the air with which he pledged Mistress
Westmacott."
"Ah yes - the manner," quoth Diana irritatingly. "We'll let that be.
Richard threw his wine in Mr. Wilding's face? What followed then?
What said Mr. Wilding?"
Sir Rowland remembered what Mr. Wilding had said, and bethought
him that it were impolitic in him to repeat it. At the same time, not
having looked for this cross-questioning, he was all unprepared with
any likely answer. He hesitated, until Ruth echoed Diana's question.
"Tell us, Sir Rowland," she begged him, "what Mr. Wilding said."
Being forced to say something, and being by nature slow-witted and

sluggish of invention, Sir Rowland was compelled, to his unspeakable
chagrin, to fall back upon the truth.
"Is not that proof?" cried Diana in triumph. "Mr. Wilding was reluctant
to quarrel with Richard. He was even ready to swallow such an affront
as that, thinking it might be offered him under a misconception of his
meaning. He plainly professed the respect that filled him for Mistress
Westmacott, and yet, and yet, Sir Rowland, you tell us that he lacked
respect!"
"Madam," cried Blake, turning crimson, "that matters nothing. It was
not the place or time to introduce your cousin s name.
"You think, Sir Rowland," put in Ruth, her air grave, judicial almost,
"that Richard behaved well?"
"As I would like to behave myself, as I would have a son of mine
behave on the like occasion," Blake protested. "But we waste words,"
he cried. "I did not come to defend Richard, nor just to bear you this
untoward news. I came to consult with you, in the hope that we might
find some way to avert this peril from your brother."
"What way is possible?" asked Ruth, and sighed. "I would not... I
would not have Richard a coward."
"Would you prefer him dead?" asked Blake, sadly grave.
"Sooner than craven - yes," Ruth answered him, very white.
"There is no question of that," was Blake's rejoinder. "The question is
that Wilding said last night that he would kill the boy, and what
Wilding says he does. Out of the affection that I bear Richard is born
my anxiety to save him despite himself. It is in this that I come to seek
your aid or offer mine. Allied we might accomplish what singly neither
of us could."
He had at once the reward of his cunning speech. Ruth held out her
hands. "You are a good friend, Sir Rowland," she said, with a pale

smile; and pale too was the smile with which Diana watched them. No
more than Ruth did she suspect the sincerity of Blake's protestations.
"I am proud you should account me that," said the baronet, taking
Ruth's hands and holding them a moment; "and I would that I could
prove myself your friend in this to some good purpose. Believe me, if
Wilding would consent that I might take your brother's place, I would
gladly do so."
It was a safe boast, knowing as he did that Wilding would consent to no
such thing; but it earned him a glance of greater kindliness from Ruth -
who