In the first pangs of the remorse and sorrow that filled his heart, Neville could gladly have gone out and drowned himself. Presently he began to think,--was there not some one else beside himself who might possibly be to blame for all this misery? For instance, who could have brought or sent that letter to Lady Errington? In her high station, she, so lofty, so pure, so far above the rest of her sex, would have been the last person to make any inquiries about such a woman as Violet Vere. How had it all happened? He looked imploringly for some minutes at the dejected figure in the chair without daring to offer a word of consolation. Presently he ventured a remark-"Sir Philip!" he stammered. "It will soon be all right,--her ladyship will come back immediately. I myself will explain--it's--it's only a misunderstanding . . ."
Errington moved in his chair impatiently, but said nothing. Only a misunderstanding! How many there are who can trace back broken friendships and severed loves to that one thing--"only a misunderstanding!" The tenderest relations are often the most delicate and subtle, and "trifles light as air" may scatter and utterly destroy the sensitive gossamer threads extending between one heart and another, as easily as a child's passing foot destroys the spider's web woven on the dewy grass in the early mornings of spring.
Presently Sir Philip started up--his lashes were wet and his face was flushed.
"It's no good sitting here," he said, rapidly buttoning on his overcoat. "I must go after her. Let all the business go to the devil! Write and say I won't stand for Middleborough--I resign in favor of the Liberal candidate. I'm off to Norway to-night."
"To Norway!" cried Neville. "Has she gone there? At this season--"
He broke off, for at that moment Britta entered, looking the picture of misery. Her face was pale and drawn--her eyelids red and swollen, and when she saw Sir Philip, she gave him a glance of the most despairing reproach and indignation. He sprang up to her.
"Any news?" he demanded.
Britta shook her head mournfully, the tears beginning to roll again down her cheeks.
"Oh, if I'd only thought!" she sobbed, "if I'd only known what the dear Fröken meant to do when she said good-bye to me last night, I could have prevented her going--I could--I would have told her all I know--and she would have stayed to see you! Oh, Sir Philip, if you had only been here, that wicked, wicked Lady Winsleigh couldn't have driven her away!"