Part 15 (1/2)
”I have said nothing.”
”Well, you know me sufficiently well, Brooker, to be aware that when I set my heart upon doing a thing I will accomplish it at all cost,” the Prince, exclaimed. ”I'm no longer an outsider, remember, I cannot really understand your disinclination to allow Liane to become Princess d'Auzac. Surely you must see that it would be distinctly to your own advantage. She would take care that you'd never be hard up for a few hundreds, you know.”
”She does not love you, Zertho.”
”Love be hanged!” cried the other, fiercely impatient. ”In a week I shall repeat my proposal to her: if she does not accept, well--”
”Well?” echoed Brooker, paler than before, the hand holding the cigar trembling, for he was feigning a coolness which he was unable to preserve.
For a moment the Prince paused then crossing to the escritoire, which stood in the window, took therefrom a folded newspaper, old and tattered, together with several other papers folded together lengthwise.
Recrossing to where Brooker stood, he held them up to his gaze, with a sinister smile upon his lips, and a look full of menace.
”No! no!” cried the Captain, glaring at the innocent-looking papers, and drawing back with a gesture of repulsion.
”Very well,” Zertho answered, with nonchalance. ”Strange though it may appear, your only chance of safety is in becoming my father-in-law. It will be easy enough for you to persuade Liane to become my wife, and I am ready and eager to remain your friend. But if your prejudices are so very intense and indiscreet, well--you know the rest.”
The two men who had been fellow-adventurers faced each other. In the countenance of one was confidence, in the other abject fear.
”I never expected this of you, Zertho,” the Captain said reproachfully, regarding him with eyes in which flashed the fire of anger. ”You apparently heed nothing of my feelings as her father. You know my past; you know that Liane brings into my life its only ray of brightness.”
”We are no longer partners,” the other answered harshly, with a strangely determined expression upon his dark countenance. ”You are playing against me now, therefore I am your opponent. You've thought fit to deal the cards, it's true,” he added, with a short derisive laugh; ”but I think you'll have to admit that I hold all the trumps.”
CHAPTER NINE.
THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS.
One thought alone possessed Liane. Zertho loved her.
Next morning when the maid brought her coffee, she rose, and opening the sun-shutters, stood at the window gazing upon the broad expanse of bright blue sea. The words the Prince had uttered all came back to her.
She recollected how he had pressed her hand, and declared that she was his ideal of what a woman should be; how, not satisfied with her refusal, he had promised to repeat his question. Should she accept?
No, she distrusted him as much as she had ever done.
While thus plunged in deep reflection, her clear eyes fixed upon the distant horizon where s.h.i.+ps were pa.s.sing, endeavouring to convince herself that marriage with Zertho was impossible because she could never love him, a light tap was heard upon the door, and the girl re-entered, bearing a letter.
By its blue English stamp, she knew instinctively it was from George.
Slowly she tore open the envelope and read its contents. Then, with a sudden movement, she cast herself upon her bed, burying her face in the lace-edged pillow, and bursting into a torrent of pa.s.sionate tears. She hated Zertho, and still loved George.
Meanwhile, her father had risen, and gone out for an early turn along the Promenade. He let himself out at the rear into the Rue de France, in order not to pa.s.s the Villa Chevrier, and after strolling for some time about the town, he reached the sea again walking alone, his face set towards the high castle hill, which he presently ascended by the winding flight of stone steps, and standing at last on the summit, in the beautiful garden laid out on the side of the long-ruined chateau, paused to rest. The sun was strong, the sky cloudless, and in every direction the view was superb. As he stood leaning over the stone parapet, the Cape of Antibes, the Iles de Lerins, the mouth of the broad stony Var, and the town of Nice were at his feet, while behind stretched the green valley of the Paillon, with the white monasteries of Cimiez and St Pons, the distant chateau of St Andre, the peaks of Mont Chauve, and the Aspremont, with the blue distant Alps forming a picturesque background. He removed his hat, and allowed the fresh breeze that came up from the sea to fan his heated temples.
He was alone, save for a solitary sentinel standing with fixed bayonet some distance away, at the entrance to a large platform, where several guns were mounted behind baskets filled with stones, and as he leaned, his eyes fixed blankly upon the sea, some low words escaped him.
”Yes,” he murmured in desperation, ”this is indeed the last drop that has filled my cup of affliction. Poor Liane! How can I tell her? How can I go to her and confess the ghastly truth? If I do; if I tell her of the terrible secret which I had believed was mine alone, she--the child whom I have loved and cherished all these years, will turn from me with loathing.”
His hands were clenched, his brow furrowed, and upon his usually merry countenance was a settled look of unutterable despair.
”No, it is impossible--absolutely impossible,” he went on, sighing deeply, after a few moments. ”To tell her the truth would only be to increase her unhappiness and cause her to hate me, therefore I cannot--I dare not! No; Zertho is inexorable. I must sacrifice Liane in order to save myself.”
Again he was silent, pondering deeply, and striving to form some plan by which to save his daughter from being forced into this undesirable union. But he could conceive none. Even if he defied this man who was endeavouring to secure Liane, and boldly met the terrible consequences of the exposure of his secret, he saw that such a course must reflect upon her, for she would then be alone in the world--friendless, forsaken and penniless; while if he fled, he must be found sooner or later, for within twenty-four hours the police of Europe would be actively searching for him. Then, calmly and without fear, he thought of suicide, his one desire being to save Liane from disgrace. Leaning over the parapet, he gazed far down upon the brown, rocky crags, beaten time after time by the great rolling waves as they broke and threw up columns of white spray. He was contemplating how best to end his life. He could leave her a letter confessing all the truth, and thus save her from becoming the wife of this t.i.tled adventurer. Yet again a difficulty presented itself. To act thus would be cowardly; besides which Liane would also be left without money, and without a protector.