The Phantom Lover Part 25

There was a little silence.

"Well," said the owner of the lorgnette then, "what do you think about it? Do you think you would like to come? Do you think you would like me?"

Esther smiled, there was something in this blunt questioning that reminded her of June Mason.

"Yes," she said. "I think I should, but----"

"I hate that word," she was told promptly. "I don't want any 'buts' in the question. You either wish to come or you do not. I will give you fifty pounds a year, and your keep, of course. It's too much for an inexperienced girl like you, but I think I shall rather like you.

Well, what do you say?"

Esther did not know what to say. The offer was tempting enough, but she thought of June Mason and the room with the mauve cus.h.i.+ons where she was settling down so happily, and her heart sank.

"I should like to think it over," she said, stammering. "I have a friend I should like to talk it over with if you don't mind. If you will give me just a day or two...."

"Take a week by all means. I am going away myself for a few days, and I shan't want you till I come back. Write and tell me what you decide to do. Here is my card...." She took one from a heavy silver case and laid it on the table. She looked at Esther quizzically, then suddenly she held out her hand.

"Good-bye, Miss Shepstone. I hope I shall see you again," and the next moment she had gone.

The stiff and stately owner of the agency was smiling, well pleased.

"You are most fortunate, Miss Shepstone," she said. "You have secured one of the best posts I have on my books. If you take my advice you will not hesitate. Make up your mind at once."

Esther did not answer. She took up the card from the table, then she drew in her breath with a hard sound, for the name printed there was Mrs. Raymond Ashton.

CHAPTER XI

Esther never knew how she got out into the street. She walked along like some one in a dream; her cheeks were burning hot.

Mrs. Raymond Ashton! Raymond's mother! The woman of whom he had spoken so often and so bitterly. The woman who had raised such a fierce objection to her marriage with Raymond.

There was not much resemblance between mother and son; they were both handsome, but there was a sort of humour in Mrs. Ashton's face which Raymond's lacked. Esther tried vainly to find some likeness between them.

She realised how different this woman was to what she had pictured her, remembered that spontaneously offered hand. Had Mrs. Ashton known who she was? Oh, surely not, or she would never have appeared so anxious to engage her.

How angry Raymond would be. Angry that the woman he loved was to go to his mother as a paid companion. Esther could not help smiling. For her own sake she would not mind it. At least she would be with his mother and in his home; but, of course, the thing was impossible--such a situation would not be tolerable. She would have to write and refuse.

"Good afternoon!" said a voice, and, turning hurriedly, Esther found Micky Mellowes beside her.

He looked as if he were not quite sure of his reception; but to-day Esther had other thoughts to occupy her which were more interesting than he was--and the smile she gave him was almost friendly.

"Good afternoon! Isn't it cold?"

"Very.... Where are you hurrying off to?"

He tried to speak casually, but his heart was beating uncomfortably.

"I'm just going back home," Esther said. "I've been to an agency looking for a berth."

"A berth!" A frown came between his eyes. "What sort of a berth?" he asked quickly.

Esther laughed.

"Well, I'm think of taking your advice--and going as companion to an old lady--not that she's very old," she added doubtfully, with sudden memory of Raymond's mother.

"You mean that you have decided?"

She hesitated.

"Well, I have the refusal of it." She looked at him with defiant eyes.

"I am only just hesitating--I want to talk to Miss Mason about it--she is much more worldly wise than I am."

"June is a very sensible woman," he said. "I am glad you like her." He hesitated. "And the--er--post?" he asked with an effort. "Will it be in town?"

"Oh yes."

She was obviously not going to tell him any more, but Micky persevered.

"I wonder if it is likely to be any one I know. I have quite an extensive acquaintance in London."

"Yes," said Esther. "But I don't suppose you will know these people, anyway," she added with an unconscious touch of loftiness in her voice. "The name is Ashton--Mrs. Raymond Ashton."

There was the barest possible silence before Micky answered, a silence during which the blank dismay and anger that crossed his face would have been amusing had it not also had something of pathos in it.

"Ashton?" he said. "Oh, yes, I know Raymond Ashton very well." He was watching her with jealous eyes, and she turned her head sharply and looked up at him.

Just for a moment a traitorous eagerness crossed her face; he could almost see the quick question on her lips, then she laughed.

"Really! How funny! But, of course, as you say, you must know a great many people."

"I have known the Ashtons for years. You will like Mrs. Ashton."

There was a sort of quiet insinuation in the words, and Esther bit her lip.

"And--the son?" she asked. "I think you said you knew the son."

"Yes, I know him--he is in Paris, I believe."

Micky was conscious of a queer tightening about his throat; it was a tremendous effort to force himself to speak lightly.

"And shall I like him as well, do you think?" Esther asked deliberately.

Micky did not answer.

"Do you like him?" she persisted.