Lecount. His
judgment was not warped by latent female jealousies, and he avoided the
error into which the housekeeper had fallen, self-deluded--the error of
underrating the impression on Noel Vanstone that Magdalen had produced.
One of the forces in this world which no middle-aged woman is capable of
estimating at its full value, when it acts against her, is the force of
beauty in a woman younger than herself.
"You are so hasty, Mr. Bygrave--you won't give me time--you won't wait
and hear what I have to say!" cried Noel Vanstone, piteously, when the
servant had closed the parlor door.
"My family failing, sir--the blood of the Bygraves. Accept my excuses.
We are alone, as you wished; pray proceed."
Placed between the alternatives of losing Magdalen's society or
betraying Mrs. Lecount, unenlightened by any suspicion of the
housekeeper's ultimate object, cowed by the immovable scrutiny of
Captain Wragge's inquiring eye, Noel Vanstone was not long in making his
choice. He confusedly described his singular interview of the previous
evening with Mrs. Lecount, and, taking the folded paper from his pocket,
placed it in the captain's hand.
A suspicion of the truth dawned on Captain Wragge's mind the moment he
saw the mysterious note.
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