Part 31 (1/2)

”The knight is the difficulty,” laughed Lionel.

”Why should we not go out on the lake now?” said Gaspar; ”I will row.”

”I have been wis.h.i.+ng for the last ten minutes,” replied Beatrice, ”to be upon the lake. I want to put my hand in the water and see what comes.”

Gaspar was not long in getting a pleasure boat out of the boat house.

Lionel managed to secure a seat near his Undine, and Lord Airlie by his Beatrice.

It was even more pleasant on the water than on the land; the boat moved easily along, the fresh, clear breeze helping it.

”Steer for those pretty water lilies,” said Beatrice, ”they look so fresh and s.h.i.+ning in the sun.”

And as they floated over the water, her thoughts went back to that May morning when Lillian sat upon the cliffs and sketched the white far-off sails. How distant it seemed! She longed then for life. Now every sweet gift which life could bestow was here, crowned with love. Yet she sighed as Hugh Fernely's face rose before her. If she could but forget it! After all it had been on her side but a mockery of love.

Yet another sigh broke from her lips, and then Lord Airlie looked anxiously at her.

”Does anything trouble you, Miss Earle?” he asked. ”I never remember to have seen you so serious before.”

She looked for a moment wistfully into his face. Ah, if he could help her, if he could drive this haunting memory from her, if ever it could be that she might tell him of this her trouble and ask him to save her from Hugh Fernely! But that was impossible. Almost as though in answer to her thought, Gaspar Laurence began to tell them of an incident that had impressed him. A gentleman, a friend of his, after making unheard-of sacrifices to marry a lady who was both beautiful and accomplished, left her suddenly, and never saw her again, the reason being that he discovered that she had deceived him by telling him a willful lie before her marriage. Gaspar seemed to think she had been hardly used. Lord Airlie and Lionel differed from him.

”I am quite sure,” said Lord Airlie, ”that I could pardon anything sooner than a lie; all that is mean, despicable, and revolting to me is expressed in the one word, 'liar.' Sudden anger, pa.s.sion, hot revenge--anything is more easily forgiven. When once I discover that a man or woman has told me a lie, I never care to see their face again.”

”I agree with you,” said Lionel; ”perhaps I even go further. I would never pardon an air of deceit; those I love must be straightforward, honest, and sincere always.”

”Such a weight of truth might sink the boat,” said Beatrice, carelessly; but Lord Airlie's words had gone straight to her heart. If he only knew. But he never would. And again she wished that in reply to her father's question she had answered truthfully.

The time came when Lillian remembered Mr. Dacre's words, and knew they had not been spoken in vain.

Beatrice had taken off her glove, and drew her hand trough the cool, deep water; thinking intently of the story she had just heard--of Undine and the water-sprites--she leaned over the boat's side and gazed into the depths. The blue sky and white fleecy clouds, the tall green trees and broad leaves, were all reflected there. There was a strange, weird fascination in the placid water--what went on in the depths beneath? What lay beneath the ripples? Suddenly she drew back with a startled cry a cry that rang out in the clear summer air, and haunted Lord Airlie while he lived. He looked at her; her face had grown white, even to the very lips, and a nameless, awful dread lay in her dark eyes.

”What is it?” he asked, breathlessly. She recovered herself with a violent effort, and tried to smile.

”How foolish I am!” she said; ”and what is worse you will all laugh at me. It was sheer fancy and nonsense, I know; but I declare that looking down into the water, I saw my own face there with such a wicked, mocking smile that it frightened me.”

”It was the simple reflection,” said Lionel Dacre. ”I can see mine.

Look again, Miss Earle.”

”No,” she replied, with a shudder; ”it is only nonsense, I know, but it startled me. The face seemed to rise from the depths and smile--oh, oh, such a smile! When shall I forget it?”

”It was only the rippling of the water which distorted the reflection,”

said Lord Airlie.

Beatrice made no reply, but drew her lace shawl around her as though she were cold.

”I do not like the water,” she said presently; ”it always frightens me.

Let us land, Mr. Laurence, please. I will never go on the lake again.”

Gaspar laughed, and Mr. Dacre declared Beatrice had had too strong a dose of Undine and the water-sprites. Lord Airlie felt her hand tremble as he helped her to leave the boat. He tried to make her forget the incident by talking of the ball and the pleasure it would bring. She talked gayly, but every now and then he saw that she shuddered as though icily cold.