Part 56 (2/2)

”You can do so much for me if you will!” she said, laying her hand on his arm. ”You can tell all these people who talk so foolishly that they are wrong,--tell them how happy I am! And that my Philip has never deceived me in any matter, great or small!”

”Never?” he asked with a slight sneer. ”You are sure?”

”Sure!” she answered bravely. ”He would keep nothing from me that it was necessary or good for me to know. And I--oh! I might pa.s.s all my life in striving to please him, and yet I should never, never be worthy of all his tenderness and goodness! And that he goes many times to a theatre without me--what is it? A mere nothing--a trifle to laugh at! It is not needful to tell me of such a small circ.u.mstance!”

As she spoke she smiled--her form seemed to dilate with a sort of inner confidence and rapture.

Sir Francis stared at her half shamed,--half savage. The beautiful, appealing face, bright with simple trust, roused him to no sort of manly respect or forbearance,--the very touch of the blossom-white hand she had laid so innocently on his arm, stung his pa.s.sion as with a lash--as he had said, he was fond of hunting--he had chased the unconscious deer all through the summer, and now that it had turned to bay with such pitiful mildness and sweet pleading, why not draw the knife across its slim throat without mercy?

”Really, Lady Errington!” he said at last sarcastically, ”your wifely enthusiasm and confidence are indeed charming! But, unfortunately, the proofs are all against you. Truth is truth, however much you may wish to blind your eyes to its manifestations. I sincerely wish Sir Philip were present to hear your eloquent praises of him, instead of being where he most undoubtedly is,--in the arms of Violet Vere!”

As he said these words she started away from him and put her hands to her ears as though to shut out some discordant sound--her eyes glowed feverishly. A cold s.h.i.+ver shook her from head to foot.

”That is false--false!” she muttered in a low, choked voice. ”How can you--how dare you?”

She ceased, and with a swaying, bewildered movement, as though she were blind, she fell senseless at his feet.

In one second he was kneeling beside her. He raised her head on his arm,--he gazed eagerly on her fair, still features. A dark contraction of his brows showed that his thoughts were not altogether righteous ones. Suddenly he laid her down again gently, and, springing to the door, locked it. Returning, he once more lifted her in a half-reclining position, and encircling her with his arms, drew her close to his breast and kissed her. He was in no hurry for her to recover--she looked very beautiful--she was helpless--she was in his power. The silvery ting-ling of the clock on the mantel-piece striking eleven startled him a little--he listened painfully--he thought he heard some one trying the handle of the door he had locked. Again--again he kissed those pale, unconscious lips! Presently, a slight s.h.i.+ver ran through her frame--she sighed, and a little moan escaped her. Gradually, as warmth and sensation returned to her, she felt the pressure of his embrace, and murmured--

”Philip! Darling,--you have come back earlier,--I thought--”

Here she opened her eyes and met those of Sir Francis, who was eagerly bending over her. She uttered an exclamation of alarm, and strove to rise. He held her still more closely.

”Thelma--dear, dearest Thelma! Let me comfort you,--let me tell you how much I love you!”

And before she could divine his intent, he pressed his lips pa.s.sionately on her pale cheek. With a cry she tore herself violently from his arms and sprang to her feet, trembling in every limb.

”What--what is this?” she exclaimed wrathfully. ”Are you mad?”

And still weak and confused from her recent attack of faintness, she pushed back her hair from her brows and regarded him with a sort of puzzled horror.

He flushed deeply, and set his lips hard.

”I dare say I am,” he answered, with a bitter laugh; ”in fact, I know I am! You see, I've betrayed my miserable secret. Will you forgive me, Lady Errington--Thelma?” He drew nearer to her, and his eyes darkened with restrained pa.s.sion. ”Matchless beauty!--adorable woman, as you are!--will you not pardon my crime, if crime it be--the crime of loving you? For I do love you!--Heaven only knows how utterly and desperately!”

She stood mute, white, almost rigid, with that strange look of horror frozen, as it were, upon her features. Emboldened by her silence, he approached and caught her hand,--she wrenched it from his grasp and motioned him from her with a gesture of such royal contempt that he quailed before her. All suddenly the flood-gates of her speech were loosened,--the rising tide of burning indignation that in its very force had held her dumb and motionless, now broke forth unrestrainedly.

”O G.o.d!” she cried impetuously, a magnificent glory of disdain flas.h.i.+ng in her jewel-like eyes, ”what _thing_ is this that calls itself a man?--this thief of honor,--this pretended friend? What have I done, sir, that you should put such deep disgrace as your so-called _love_ upon me?--what have I _seemed_, that you thus dare to outrage me by the pollution of your touch? I,--the wife of the n.o.blest gentleman in the land! Ah!” and she drew a long breath--”and it is you who speak against my husband--_you_!” She smiled scornfully,--then with more calmness continued--”You will leave my house, sir, at once! . . . and never presume to enter it again!”

And she stepped towards the bell. He looked at her with an evil leer.

”Stop a moment!” he said coolly. ”Just one moment before you ring. Pray consider! The servant cannot possibly enter, as the door is locked.”

”You _dared_ to lock the door!” she exclaimed, a sudden fear chilling her heart as she remembered similar manoeuvres on the part of the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy--then another thought crossed her mind, and she began to retreat towards a large painted panel of ”Venus” disporting among cupids and dolphins in the sea. Sir Francis sprang to her side, and caught her arm in an iron grip--his face was aflame with baffled spite and vindictiveness.

”Yes, I _dared_!” he muttered with triumphant malice. ”And I dared do more than that! You lay unconscious in my arms,--you beautiful, bewitching Thelma, and I kissed you--ay! fifty times! You can never undo those kisses! You can never forget that _my_ lips, as well as your husband's, have rested on yours--I have had that much joy that shall never be taken away from me! And if I choose, even now,”--and he gripped her more closely--”yes, even now I will kiss you, in spite of you!--who is to prevent me? I will force you to love me, Thelma--”

Driven to bay, she struck him with all her force in the face, across the eyes.

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