The Young Duke

  CHAPTER III.

  _Again the Rival_

  THE Duke of St. James had, on his arrival at Dacre, soon observed thata constant correspondence was maintained between Miss Dacre and hercousin. There was no attempt to conceal the fact from any of the guests,and, as that young gentleman was now engaged in an affair interesting toall his friends, every letter generally contained some paragraph almostas interesting to the Montingfords as to herself, which wasaccordingly read aloud. Mr. Arundel Dacre was candidate for the vacantrepresentation of a town in a distant county. He had been disappointedin his views on the borough, about which he had returned to England, buthad been nevertheless persuaded by his cousin to remain in his nativecountry. During this period, he had been a great deal at Castle Dacre,and had become much more intimate and unreserved with his uncle, whoobserved with great satisfaction this change in his character, and lostno opportunity of deserving and increasing the confidence for whichhe had so long unavailingly yearned, and which was now so unexpectedlyproffered.

  The borough for which Arundel Dacre was about to stand was in Sussex, acounty in which his family had no property, and very slight connection.Yet at the place, the Catholic interest was strong, and on that, andthe usual Whig influence, he ventured. His desire to be a member ofthe Legislature, at all and from early times extreme, was now greatlyheightened by the prospect of being present at the impending Catholicdebate. After an absence of three weeks, he had hurried to Yorkshire forfour-and-twenty hours, to give a report of the state of his canvass,and the probability of his success. In that success all were greatlyinterested, but none more so than Miss Dacre, whose thoughts indeedseemed to dwell on no other subject, and who expressed herself with awarmth which betrayed her secret feelings. Had the place only beenin Yorkshire, she was sure he must have succeeded. She was the bestcanvasser in the world, and everybody agreed that Harry Grey-stoke owedhis election merely to her insinuating tongue and unrivalled powersof scampering, by which she had completely baffled the tactics of LadyAmarantha.

  Germain, who thought that a canvass was only a long morning call, andmight be achieved in a cashmere and a britzska.

  The young Duke, who had seen little of his second since the eventfulday, greeted him with warmth, and was welcomed with a frankness whichhe had never before experienced from his friend. Excited by rapidtravel and his present course of life, and not damped by the unexpectedpresence of any strangers, Arundel Dacre seemed quite a changed man, andtalked immensely.

  'Come, May, I must have a kiss! I have been kissing as pretty girls asyou. There now! You all said I never should be a popular candidate. Iget regularly huzzaed every day, so they have been obliged to hire aband of butchers' boys to pelt me. Whereupon I compare myself to Caesarset upon in the Senate House, and get immense cheering in "The CountyChronicle," which I have bribed. If you knew the butts of wine, theHeidelberg tuns of ale, that I have drank during the last fortnight,you would stare indeed. As much as the lake: but then I have to talkso much, that the ardour of my eloquence, like the hot flannels of theHumane Society, save me from the injurious effects of all this liquid.'

  'But will you get in; but will you get in?' exclaimed his cousin.

  ''Tis not in mortals to command success; but---'

  'Pooh! pooh! you must command it!' 'Well, then, I have an excellentchance; and the only thing against me is, that my committee are quitesure. But really I think that if the Protestant overseers, whom,by-the-bye, May, I cannot persuade that I am a heretic (it is very hardthat a man is not believed when he says he shall be damned), if theydo not empty the workhouse, we shall do. But let us go in, for I havetravelled all night, and must be off to-morrow morning.'

  They entered the house, and the Duke quitted the family group. About anhour afterwards, he sauntered to the music-room. As he opened the door,his eyes lighted upon May Dacre and her cousin. They were standingbefore the fire, with their backs to the door. His arm was woundcarelessly round her waist, and with his other hand he supported, withher, a miniature, at which she was looking.

  The Duke could not catch her countenance, which was completely hid; buther companion was not gazing on the picture: his head, a little turned,indicated that there was a living countenance more interesting to himthan all the skill of the most cunning artist. Part of his cheek wasalone perceptible, and that was burning red.

  All this was the work of a moment. The Duke stared, turned pale, closedthe door without a sound, and retired unperceived. When he was sure thathe could no longer be observed, he gasped for breath, a cold dew coveredhis frame, his joints loosened, and his sinking heart gave him thatsickening sensation when life appears utterly worthless, and ourselvesutterly contemptible. Yet what had he witnessed? A confirmation of whathe had never doubted. What was this woman to him? Alas! how supreme wasthe power with which she ruled his spirit! And this Dacre, this ArundelDacre, how he hated him! Oh! that they were hand to hand, and sword tosword, in some fair field, and there decide it! He must conquer; he feltthat. Already his weapon pierced that craven heart, and ripped open thatbreast which was to be the pillow of---. Hell! hell! He rushed to hisroom, and began a letter to Caroline St. Maurice; but he could notwrite; and after scribbling over a quire of paper, he threw the sheetsto the flames, and determined to ride up to town to-morrow.

  The dinner bell sounded. Could he meet them? Ay! meet them! Defy them!Insult them! He descended to the dining-room. He heard her musicaland liquid voice; the scowl upon his brow melted away; but, gloomy andsilent, he took his seat, and gloomy and silent he remained. Little hespoke, and that little was scarcely courteous. But Arundel had enough tosay. He was the hero of the party. Well he might be. Story afterstory of old maids and young widows, sturdy butchers and corrupt coalmerchants, sparkled away; but a faint smile was all the tribute of theDuke, and a tribute that was seldom paid.

  'You are not well!' said Miss Dacre to him, in a low voice.

  'I believe I am,' answered he shortly.

  'You do not seem quite so,' she replied, with an air of surprise.

  'I believe I have got a headache,' he retorted with little morecordiality. She did not again speak, but she was evidently annoyed.