Chapter 90 - Behind a Mask, or a Woman's Power

Touched and flattered by her tender solicitude, Sir John promised everything, even while he laughed at her fears. Love blinded the good gentleman to the peculiarity of the request, the novelty, romance and secrecy of the affair rather bewildered, though it charmed him, and the knowledge that he had outrivaled three young and ardent lovers gratified his vanity more than he would confess. Parting from the girl at the garden gate, he turned homeward, feeling like a boy again, and loitered back, humming a love-lay, quite forgetful of evening damps, gout, and the five-and-fifty years which lay so lightly on his shoulders since Jean's arms had rested there. She hurried toward the house, anxious to escape Coventry. But he was waiting for her, and she was forced to meet him. "'How could you linger so long, and keep me in suspense?' he said reproachfully, as he took her hand and tried to catch a glimpse of her face in the shadow of her hat-brim. "'Come and rest in the grotto. I have so much to say, to hear and enjoy.' "'Not now. I am too tired. Let me go in and sleep. To-morrow we will talk. It is damp and chilly, and my head aches with all this worry.' Jean spoke wearily, yet with a touch of petulance, and Coventry, fancying that she was piqued at his not coming for her, hastened to explain with eager tenderness. "'My poor little Jean, you do need rest. We wear you out among us, and you never complain. I should have come to bring you home, but Lucia detained me, and when I got away I saw my uncle had forestalled me. I shall be jealous of the old gentleman, if he is so devoted. Jean, tell me one thing before we part. I must free his heir now, and have a right to speak. Do you love me? Am I the happy man who has won your heart? I dare to think so, to believe that this tell-tale face of yours has betrayed you, and to hope that I have gained what poor Ned and wild Sidney have lost. Before I answer, tell me of your interview with Lucia. I have a right to know,' said Jean." Coventry hesitated, for pity and remorse were busy at his heart when he recalled poor Lucia's grief. Jean was bent on hearing the humiliation of her rival. As the young man paused, she frowned, then lifted up her face, wreathed in softest smiles, and laying her hand on his arm, she said with most effective emphasis, half shy, half fond, upon his name.