Part 31 (1/2)
”That's true,” she answered. ”But the past--I must strive to forget it.
My whole life has been a series of dire misfortunes--an existence wasted because, until the present, I have never found one whom I could love.”
”You really care for me, then?” he asked, looking earnestly into her fine eyes. ”You will marry me at once, as you promised a moment ago?”
”Yes, dear,” she said, her face relaxing into a glad smile. ”I feel that, however unpropitious the past may have been, this is the turning-point in my life. Men I have hitherto known have all been hard-hearted and ready to hear me maligned, but you have sympathised with me in my unloved and defenceless position, and I cannot doubt that we shall be happy together.”
”Why, of course we shall,” he declared, drawing her closer to him, and kissing her through her flimsy veil. ”I'm growing impatient to return to Coombe and settle down comfortably. The hollowness of life in a place like this palls upon one.”
”Yes; I, too, am getting tired of it. I shall be pleased to go with you to your home. From the photographs it must be a lovely old place.”
”Its antiqueness is its greatest charm,” he replied. ”But tell me why are you so unhappy?”
”Well, would you like to know the truth?” she asked, with a nervous little laugh.
”Of course I should.”
”Then it was because I half-feared you did not care for me sufficiently to make me your wife,” she said hesitatingly.
”And that caused you all this unhappiness? Well, now you know the truth,” he added gayly, ”there need be no more fear on that score. We will return to England and be married as soon as possible. Are you agreeable?”
Replying in the affirmative, she raised her face to his and kissed him affectionately, almost sadly.
As she withdrew her lips her teeth were firmly set, for, after all, she thought, was she not partic.i.p.ating in a base plot and acting in a vile, despicable character? Yet, notwithstanding, she had caught herself actually imbued with genuine affection for this man she was pretending to love. She, a b.u.t.terfly of fas.h.i.+on, who had been the evil genius of more than one man who had fallen victim to her charms, actually struggled with her conscience.
Drawing a deep breath between her teeth, she hesitated. Hugh attributed it to agitation; he little suspected that it was an effort to remain firm and carry out a nefarious scheme.
He was weak and captivated by her pretty face, she knew; still, after all, she could not deny that she, too, loved him, and for the moment she hated herself for practising such vile deception.
Although a cunning, crafty woman, recognising no law, either of G.o.d or man, all sense of honour had not yet been quite obliterated by the many clever plots and base schemes in which she had partic.i.p.ated. All her youthful enthusiasm came to life again; the heart which she had thought dead, beat as it had never before done at the voice and smile of this strong, gentle, loyal-hearted man. Her love for him was silent but pa.s.sionate; she adored him without telling herself that her right to love had long ago been forfeited.
Her beautiful oval face was calm and pale, faultless as that of an Italian Madonna, while her brilliant eyes received additional radiance from the l.u.s.tre of her dark hair. She forgot her past; she felt as if she never had but one name upon her ruddy pouting lips--that of Hugh.
And he sat beside her, saying--
”I love you--I love you!”
On both sides it was a blind infatuation. Agony and torture she underwent as she put to herself the momentous question--Was she justified in accepting, when acceptance meant ruin? Was it just? Was it natural? Were the horrible pa.s.sages of her life to haunt her, sleeping and waking, to madden her with their hideous vividness? Had her past deprived her of her right to live--of her right to love?
Hugh told himself that he had found his very ideal: his dreams, his faith, and love in all that is n.o.ble and upright in Valerie's mind, heart, eyes, and tone. She seemed to promise him the commencement of a new existence. With her he might again be happy; he would have some one to enter into his feelings, stand by him, and bestow on him that true affection that all men seek, but few, alas! find. He loved her with all the strength of his being.
Suddenly a thought flashed across Valerie's mind, and her resolution became concentrated on it. These were different manifestations of her dual nature. In a moment her lips were set firmly, and seemed silently to defy the feelings of affection that had just been stirred so strangely within her. She was contracting a debt to be paid for by a terrible penalty.
A glowing sunbeam, penetrating the thick foliage overhead, bathed the handsome Frenchwoman's light dress and olive cheeks with light, flecking the warm-tinted gravel on the walk. The distant band had paused. The deep silence of the avenue was broken only now and then by the low murmur of the trees. She revelled in the warm atmosphere, and felt lulled by the faint music of the rustling leaves. He, too, was lost in contemplation. In this green nook, with its gnarled trunks and fragments of blue sky revealed through the foliage, he felt far away from the world, as dreamy as if floating on a lake, as he abandoned himself to the enjoyment of the splendid afternoon.
”Then it is settled,” he said, at last. ”We will be married in London as soon as you can obtain your trousseau.”
Had they not been so oblivious of their surroundings, it is probable they would have observed a man, half concealed behind a neighbouring tree, who had been keeping a close watch upon them. Creeping cautiously from his hiding-place, he drew himself up, and walked towards them with a pleasant smile on his face. It was Adolphe Chavoix.
”Ah,” he exclaimed, as they looked up and recognised him, ”I've been hunting for you everywhere. The Count wants us to drive to the Cascade.