Part 24 (2/2)

I had only just had time to go to my room, change, and seek her, for I had not notified her of my coming in order that she should have no chance of avoiding me. Yet her manner of greeting was as though my presence gave her the utmost pleasure. Her cheeks flushed as I pressed her fingers to my lips, and I knew that her heart, like mine, beat quickly with the pa.s.sion of affection.

In a few brief words I told her that I had taken quarters in the hotel, that I should explain to her aunt that my presence in Edinburgh was connected with the Earl's affairs, and that I desired to have a private chat with her after dinner.

”Something has happened, Willoughby,” she said apprehensively. ”I see it in your face! What is it? Tell me?”

”Nothing very serious,” was my evasive reply, for I heard Lady Casterton's high-pitched voice outside, and wished to conceal from the snappy old dowager that the real object of my visit was to see Lolita.

Next instant the old lady entered, dressed in black and wearing a smart cap of fine old lace. Much surprised at my presence, she greeted me and commenced inquiring after the Earl and the Countess, remarking that she intended to join the house-party in November as she had to make a visit to Lord Penarth in Wales before coming to us.

”We've had a most delightful time at Strathpeffer--Lolita and I,” she remarked. ”And as I wanted to pay a few visits about Edinburgh, we're just here for a few days. Of course you knew from George that we were here?”

”Yes,” I replied. ”I have some business to do for him in Edinburgh, so I thought I would put up here.”

And then, in obedience to the gong, we all three descended into the large dining-room of the hotel. A good many people were present, but no woman so beautiful or brilliant as Lady Lolita Lloyd.

I noticed how the guests turned to look at her, and then to whisper among themselves, for her beauty was remarkable and her photographs often appeared in the ladies' papers, just as did those of Mangold. A pretty woman with a t.i.tle is always remarked in a hotel.

We sat at our small table chatting affably through the meal, yet I saw how intense was her desire to know the true reason of my presence. That I had some distinct object in coming north she could not doubt, and was therefore anxious for the long meal to end and for opportunity to speak with me alone.

Old Lady Casterton was a typical dowager of the days of cla.s.s distinction--a stout, well-preserved, white-haired person who regarded the world through her _lorgnon_ with an air of wonder, as though she were examining some interesting species. She stared at all common people, who felt themselves uncomfortable 'neath her gaze, and generally spoke in a tone loud enough to be heard by all in the vicinity. She was youngest sister of the old Earl of Stanchester, and had married the Earl of Casterton, who afterwards became one of England's most famous generals, and had been left a widow of very large and wealthy estate.

With me she was always perfectly affable, knowing the strong personal friends.h.i.+p existing between the Stanchesters and my own family. Hence she treated me on an equality with herself and during the meal laughed and chatted merrily about the people she and her niece had recently met.

At last, however, dinner was over, and we all three retired to the private sitting-room, where Lolita at my desire played t.i.to Mattei's ”White Moon” serenade and the ”Cavatine” from _Faust_.

”Won't you sing us something?” I urged presently when she was about to turn from the piano. At first she tried to excuse herself, but seeing that I was anxious to hear her voice she turned again, and in her clear contralto sang an old French serenade:--

”Une reine est maitresse de mon coeur; Elle reigne part tout.

Car ses beaux yeux.

Sont les deux sceptres de l'amour; Et quand vers moi ils tournent leurs brillantes flammes.

Le feu d'amour s'empare de tout mon ame.

”Heureux si j'etois souverain.

De tout le ciel Peut etre elle, Ne voudras pas que j'aime en vain; Mais comme je suis en silence je soupire; J'ose bien aimer, mais je n'ose pas le dire.”

Her gaze fell upon me as she sang, and surely she addressed those final words to me--

”But as I am, in silence I must feel Love's sacred flame, and yet that flame conceal.”

I sat gazing upon her beauty entranced. In that sweet clear voice was a touch of pathos such as I have never before heard, and I knew that she was suffering, like myself. In those moments I had wandered in the mazes of ecstatic bliss. All the world save her was lost to me. By the look in her beautiful eyes I was again launched on the wide sea of bliss; love was the pilot of my soul and the bright beam of her love-look illuminated my track, as the soft zephyrs of love filled my warm fancy, leading me to the sh.o.r.es of matchless beauty.

The song had ended, and with it my vision vanished. She closed the piano, rose and crossed the room to look out of the window upon the long line of lights in Princes Street with the castle frowning opposite in the starless gloom.

Her action was a natural one, yet it was succeeded by one which caused me some surprise. She had been standing for a moment at the open window, as though enjoying the cool air, then suddenly she removed a great bowl of bright dahlias that gave a welcome touch of colour to the room from a sideboard, and placed them upon the small table in the window.

Afterwards she returned to us without, however, drawing down the blind.

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