Part 36 (1/2)

”She did--she did. But wait a bit, my boy. I'll hang diamonds and pearls round that girl's neck, and stick tiaras in her hair, and bracelets on her arms, till I make even the princesses envious--that I will. But now, look here, I'm glad we've come to an understanding.

You'll dine with me at my club, Moorpark? Don't say no.”

”With pleasure, if you will dine with me.”

”Done. Where do you hang out?”

”Four hundred and four, Berkeley Square.”

”Say Monday for me, at the Imperial--seven sharp; and we'll settle when I come to _you_.”

”At seven on Monday,” said Lord Henry, ”I will be there.”

”And now I must be off back to town. Good-bye, G.o.d bless you, Moorpark.

One word first: you'll like to do it handsome, of course, in presents, and that sort of thing.”

”Indeed I shall not be ungenerous as soon as I know her tastes.”

”Then look here, Moorpark, these things cost money.”

”a.s.suredly.”

”Then can I do anything for you? A few thousands on your simple note of hand? Only say the word. No dealing--no interest. Just a simple loan.

How much?”

”My dear Elbraham,” said Lord Henry, ”you are very kind; but I have a handsome balance at my bank. I am a man of very simple tastes, and I have never lived half up to my income.”

”Then you must be worth a pot,” exclaimed Elbraham. ”I mean, you are really rich.”

”Well, I suppose I am,” said Lord Henry, smiling; ”but I care very little for money, I a.s.sure you.”

”That'll do,” exclaimed Elbraham, crus.h.i.+ng the other's hand once more.

”Good-bye. Monday.”

By this time they had reached the spot where their carriages were waiting--Elbraham's a phaeton, with a magnificent pair of bays, whose sides were flecked with the foam they had formed in champing their bits; Lord Henry's a neat little brougham drawn by a handsome roan.

Then there was a wave of the hand, and Elbraham took his whip, the bays starting off at a rapid trot, while, having let himself into his brougham, Lord Henry gave the word ”Home,” and leaned back with the tears in his eyes to think how soon he was finding consolation for the coldness with which he had been treated by Gertrude Millet. Then he felt slightly uneasy, for though he had never spoken to Lady Millet, his visits had been suggestive, and he could not help asking himself what her ladys.h.i.+p would say.

But that soon pa.s.sed off, as he began to glide into a delightful day-dream about beautiful Marie, and to think how strange it was that, at his age, he should have fallen fairly and honestly in love with an innocent, heart-whole, unspoiled girl.

”Yes, so different to Gertrude Millet,” he said to himself. ”She loved that young Huish, I am sure.”

Volume 2, Chapter III.

LADY MILLET'S CHOICE.

Rich men are not always to be congratulated, especially if they are good-looking and weak. Frank Morrison was both, and in early days after her wedding Renee found that a loveless marriage was not all bliss.

But she had marked out her own course, and, with the hopefulness of youth, she often sat alone, thinking that she would win her husband entirely to herself, and that when he fully saw her devotion he would give up acquaintances whom he must have known before they were wed.

One Sunday evening, and she was seated waiting, when she heard a well-known step upon the stairs.