Part 25 (1/2)
”No, with us.”
Sir Roger looked her mercilessly full in the face, regardless of her blushes.
”That,” he observed with emphasis, ”is exactly what you wanted, Miss Bellairs.”
Then he turned to the company, holding a full gla.s.s in his hand.
”Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, ”some of us have had a narrow escape.
Whether we shall be glad of it or sorry hereafter, I don't know--do you, Charlie? But hero's a health to----”
But Dora, glancing apprehensively at the General, whispered, ”Not yet!”
”To Dynamite!” said Sir Roger Deane.
POSTSCRIPT
It should be added that a fuller, more graphic, and more sensational account of the outrage in the Palais-Royal than this pen has been capable of inscribing will appear, together with much other curious and enlightening matter, in Lady Deane's next work. The author also takes occasion in that work--and there is little doubt that the subject was suggested by the experiences of some of her friends--to discuss the nature, quality, and duration of the Pa.s.sion of Love. She concludes--if it be permissible thus far to antic.i.p.ate the publication of her book--that all True Love is absolutely permanent and indestructible, untried by circ.u.mstance and untouched by time; and this opinion is, she says, indorsed by every woman who has ever been in love. Thus fortified, the conclusion seems beyond cavil. If, therefore, any incidents here recorded appear to conflict with it, we must imitate the discretion of Plato and say, either these persons were not Sons of the G.o.ds--that is. True Lovers--or they did not do such things.
Unfortunately, however, Lady Deane's proof-sheets were accessible too late to allow of the t.i.tle of this story being changed. So it must stand--”The Wheel of Love;” but if any lady (men are worse than useless) will save the author's credit by proving that wheels do not go round, he will be very much obliged--and will offer her every facility.
THE LADY OF THE POOL
CHAPTER I
A FIRM BELIEVER
”I see Mr. Vansittart Merceron's at the Court again, mamma.”
”Yes, dear. Lady Merceron told me he was coming. She wanted to consult him about Charlie.”
”She's always consulting him about Charlie, and it never makes any difference.”
Mrs. Bush.e.l.l looked up from her needlework; her hands were full with needle and stuff, and a couple of pins protruded from her lips. She glanced at her daughter, who stood by the window in the bright blaze of a brilliant sunset, listlessly hitting the blind-cord and its ta.s.sel to and fro.
”The poor boy's very young still,” mumbled Mrs. Bush.e.l.l through her pins.
”He's twenty-five last month,” returned Millicent. ”I know, because there's exactly three years between him and me.”
The sinking rays defined Miss Bush.e.l.l's form with wonderful clearness.
She was very tall, and the severe well-cut cloth gown she wore set off the stately lines of her figure. She had a great quant.i.ty of fair hair and a handsome face, spoilt somewhat by a slightly excessive breadth across the cheeks; as her height demanded or excused, her hands and feet were not small, though well shaped. Would Time have arrested his march for ever, there would have been small fault to find with Nature's gifts to Miss Bush.e.l.l; but, as her mother said, Millie was just what she had been at twenty-one; and Mrs. Bush.e.l.l was now extremely stout.
Millie escaped the inference by discrediting her mother's recollection.
The young lady wore her hat, and presently she turned away from the window, remarking:
”I think I shall go for a stroll. I've had no exercise to-day.”
Either inclination, or perhaps that threatening possibility from which she strove to avert her eyes, made Millie a devotee of active pursuits.