"The fear of Oscar's confession producing an estrangement between them which might delay the marriage. I am against all delays. I am especially anxious that Oscar's marriage should not be put off. When we began our conversation, I own to you I was of Oscar's opinion that he would do wisely to let marriage make him sure of his position in her affections, before he risked the disclosure. Now--after what the nurse has told us--I see no risk worth considering."
"In short," I said, "you agree with me?"
"I agree with you--though I _am_ the most opinionated man living. The chances now seem to me to be all in Oscar's favor, Lucilla's antipathy is not what I feared it was--an antipathy firmly rooted in a constitutional malady. It is nothing more serious," said Nugent, deciding the question, at once and for ever, with the air of a man profoundly versed in physiology--"it is nothing more serious than a fanciful growth, a morbid accident, of her blindness. She may live to get over it--she would, I believe, certainly get over it, if she could see. In two words, after what I have found out this morning, I say as you say--Oscar is making a mountain out of a molehill. He ought to have put himself right with Lucilla long since. I have unbounded influence over him. It shall back your influence. Oscar shall make a clean breast of it, before the week is out."
We shook hands on that bargain. As I looked at him--bright and dashing and resolute; Oscar, as I had always wished Oscar to be--I own to my shame I privately regretted that we had not met Nugent in the twilight, on that evening of ours which had opened to Lucilla the gates of a new life.
Having said to each other all that we had to say--our two lovers being away together at the time, for a walk on the hills--we separated, as I then supposed, for the rest of the day. Nugent went to the inn, to look at a stable which he proposed converting into a studio: no room at Browndown being half large enough, for the first prodigious picture with which the "Grand Consoler" in Art proposed to astonish the world. As for me, having nothing particular to do, I went out to see if I could meet Oscar and Lucilla on their return from their walk.
Failing to find them, I strolled back by way of Browndown. Nugent was sitting alone on the low wall in front of the house, smoking a cigar. He rose and came to meet me, with his finger placed mysteriously on his lips.
"You mustn't come in," he said; "you mustn't speak loud enough to be heard." He pointed round the corner of the house to the little room at the side, already familiar to you in these pages. "Oscar and Lucilla are shut up together there. And Oscar is making his confession to her at this moment!"
I lifted my hands and eyes in astonishment. Nugent went on.
"I see you want to know how it has all come about. You shall know.--While I was looking at the stable (it isn't half big enough for a studio for Me!), Oscar's servant brought me a little pencil note, entreating me, in Oscar's name, to go to him directly at Browndown. I found him waiting out here, dreadfully agitated. He cautioned me (just as I have cautioned you) not to speak loud. For the same reason too. Lucilla was in the house----"
"I thought they had gone out for a walk," I interposed.
"They did go out for a walk. But Lucilla complained of fatigue; and Oscar brought her back to Browndown to rest. Well! I inquired what was the matter. The answer informed me that the secret of Oscar's complexion had forced its way out for the second time, in Lucilla's hearing."
"Jicks again!" I exclaimed.
"No--not Jicks. Oscar's own man-servant, this time."
"How did it happen?"