Only a girl's love
smile on her face, the set smile which she had learnt to greet him with.
He came up the path with his quick and peculiar suppressed step, his
hand outstretched. He would have taken her in his arms and kissed
her--if he had dared. But he could not. With all his determination and
resolution he dared not. There was something, some mysterious halo
about his victim which kept him almost at arm's length; it was as if
she had surrounded herself by a magic circle which he could not pass.
He took her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed it, his eyes
drinking in her beauty and grace with a thirsty wistfulness.
"My darling," he murmured, in his soft, low voice, "out so late. Will
you not catch cold?"
"No," she said, and like her smile her voice seemed set and tutored.
"I shall not catch cold, I never do under any circumstance. But I have
just sent Frank in, he has been coughing terribly--he does not seem at
all strong."
He frowned with swift impatience.
"Frank is all right," he said, and there was a touch of jealousy in his
voice. "Are you not unduly anxious about the boy--you alarm yourself
without cause."
"Alarm myself," she repeated, ready to be alarmed at the suggestion.
"I--don't think, I hope I am not alarmed. Why should I be?" she said,
anxiously.
The jealousy grew more pronounced.
"There is no reason whatever," he said, shortly. "The boy is all
right. He has been getting his feet wet and caught cold, that is all."
Stella smiled.
"Yes, that is all," she said, "of course. But it is strange Dr.
Hamilton doesn't get rid of it for him."
"Perhaps he doesn't help the doctor," he retorted. "Boys always
are careless about themselves. But don't let Frank absorb all the
conversation," he said. "Let us talk of ourselves," and he kissed her
hand again.
"Yes," said Stella, obediently.
He kept her hand in his and pressed it.
"I have come to speak to you to-night, Stella, about ourselves,
darling. I want you to be very good to me!"
She looked forward at the lighted room with the same set expression,
waiting patiently, obediently, for him to proceed. There was no
response in her touch or in her face. He noticed it--he never failed to
notice it, and it maddened him. He set his teeth hard.
"Stella, I have been waiting month after month to say what I am going
to say now; but I couldn't wait any longer, my darling, my own, I wish
the marriage to take place."
She did not start, but she turned and looked at him, and her face
shone whitely in the darkness, and he felt a faint shudder in the hand
imprisoned in his.
"Will you not speak?" he said, after a moment, almost angry, because
of the tempest of passion and breathed tenderness that possessed him.
"Have you nothing to say, or will you say 'no?' I almost expect it."
"I will not say no," she said, at last, and her voice was cold and
strained. "You have a right--the right I have given you--to demand the
fulfillment of our bargain."
"Good Heaven!" he broke in, passionately. "Why do you talk like this?
Shall I never, never win you to love me? Will you never forget how we
came together?"
"Do not ask me," she said, almost pleaded, and her face quivered.
"Indeed--indeed, I try, try--try hard to forget the past, and to please
you!"
It was piteous to hear and see her, and his heart ached; but it was for
himself as well as for her.
"Do you doubt my love?" he said, hoarsely. "Do you think any man could
love you better than I do? Does that count as nothing with you?"
"Yes, yes," she said, slowly, sadly. "It does count. I--I----" then she
looked down. "Why will you speak of love between us?" she said. "Ask
me--tell me to do anything, and I will do it, but do not speak of love!"
He bit his lip.
"Well," he said, with an effort, "I will not. I see I cannot touch your
heart yet. But the time will come. You cannot stand against a love like
mine. And you will let our marriage be soon?"
"Yes," she said, simply.
He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it, hungrily, and she forced
back the shudder which threatened to overmaster her.
"By soon," he murmured, as they walked toward the house, "I mean quite
soon--before the winter."
Stella did not speak.
"Let it be next month, darling," he murmured. "I shall not feel sure
of you until you are my very own. Once you are mine beyond question, I
will teach you to love me."
Stella looked at him, and a strange, despairing smile, more bitter and
sad than tears, shone on her pale lips. Teach her to love him! As if
love could be taught!
"I am not afraid," he said, answering her smile; "no one could
withstand it--not even you, though your heart were adamant."
"It is not that," she said, in a low voice, as she thought of the dull
aching which was its pittance by day and night.
They went into the house. Mr. Etheridge was wandering about the
room, smoking his pipe, his head upon his breast, buried in thought,
as usual. Frank was lying back in the old arm-chair; he looked
wearily-fragile and delicate, but the beautiful color shone in his face.
He looked up and nodded as Jasper entered, but Jasper was not satisfied
with the nod, and went over to him and laid a hand upon his shoulder,
at which the boy winced and shrank faintly; he never could bear Jasper
to touch him, and always resented it.
"Well, Frank," he said, with his faint smile, "how's the cold to-night?"
Frank murmured something indistinctly, and shifted in his seat.
"Not so well, eh?" said Jasper. "It seems to me that a change would do
you good. What do you say to going away for a little while?"
The boy looked up at Stella with a glance of alarm. Leave Stella!
"I don't want to go away," he said, shortly. "I am quite well. I hate a
change."
Stella came up to his chair, and knelt beside him.
"It would do you good, dear," she said, in her low, musical voice.
He bent near her.
"Do you mean--alone?" he asked. "I don't want to go alone--I won't, in
fact."
"No, not alone, certainly," said Jasper, with his smile. "I think some
one else wants a change too."
And he looked at Stella tenderly.
"I'll go if Stella goes," said Frank, curtly.
"What do you say, sir?" said Jasper to the old man.
He stared, and the proposal had to be put to him _in extenso_; he had
not heard a word of what had been said.
"Go away! yes, if you like. But why? Frank's cold? I don't suppose any
other place is better for a cold is it? It is? Very well then. You
don't want me to come, I suppose?"
"Well----" said Jasper.
"I couldn't do it!" exclaimed the old man, almost with alarm. "I should
be like a fish out of water. I couldn't paint away from the river and
the meadows. Oh, it's impossible! Besides, you don't want an old man
pottering about," and he looked at Stella and smiled grimly.
"I couldn't go without you," said Stella, quietly.
"Nonsense," he said; "there's the other old woman, Mrs. Penfold, take
her; she can go. It will do her good, though she hasn't a cold."
Then he stopped in front of the boy and looked at him, with the strange
reserved, almost sad, expression which always came upon his race when
he regarded him.
"Yes," he said, in a low voice; "he wants a change. I haven't noticed;
he looks thin and unwell. Yes, you had better go! Where will you go?"
Stella shook her head with a smile, but Jasper was ready.
"Let me see," he said, thoughtfully. "We don't want a cold place, the
change would be too great; and we don't want too hot a place. What do
you say to Cornwall?"
The old man nodded.
Stella smiled again.
"I haven't anything to say," she said. "Would you like Cornwall, Frank?"
He looked from one to the other.
"What made you think of Cornwall?" he asked Jasper, suspiciously.
Jasper laughed softly.
"It seemed to me just the place to suit you. It is mild and clear, and
just what you want. Besides, I remember a little place near the sea, a
sheltered village in a bay--Carlyon they call it--that would just do
for us. What do you say? Let me see, where is the map?"
He went and got a map and spreading it out on the table, called to
Stella.
"This is it," he said, then in a low voice he whispered: "There is a
pretty, secluded little church there, Stella. Why should we not be
married there?"
She started, and her hand fell on the map.
"I am thinking of you, my darling," he said. "For my part I should like
to be married here----"
"No, not here," she faltered, as she thought of standing before the
altar in the Wyndward Church and seeing the white walls of the Hall as
she uttered her marriage vow. "Not here."
"I understand," he said. "Then why not there? Your uncle could come
down for that, I think."
She did not speak, and with a smile of satisfaction he folded the map.
"It is all settled," he said. "We go to Carlyon. You will come down for
a little while, I hope, sir. We shall want you."
The old man pushed the white hair off his forehead.
"Eh?" he asked. "What for?"
"To give Stella away," replied Jasper. "She has promised to marry me
there."
The old man looked at her.
"Why not here?" he asked, naturally, but Stella shook her head.
"Very well," he said. "It is a strange fancy, but girls are fanciful.
Off you go, then, and don't make more fuss than you can help."
So Stella's fate was settled, and the day, the fatal day, loomed darkly
before her.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Lord Charles was too glad to gain Leycester's consent to leave town to
care where they went, and to prevent all chance of Leycester's changing
his mind, this stanch and constant friend went with him to his rooms
and interviewed the patient Oliver.
"Go away, sir?" said that faithful and long-suffering individual.
"I'm glad of it! His lordship--and you too, begging your pardon, my
lord--ought to have gone long ago. It's been terrible hot work these
last few weeks. I never knew his lordship so wild. And where are we
going, my lord?"
That was the question. Leycester rendered no assistance whatever,
beyond declaring that he would not go where there was a houseful of
people. He had thrown himself into a chair, and sat moodily regarding
the floor. Bellamy's sudden illness and prophetic words had given him
a shock. He was quite ready to go anywhere, so that it was away from
London, which had become hateful to him since the last hour.
Lord Charles lit a pipe, and Oliver mixed a soda-and-brandy for him,
and they two talked it over in an undertone.
"I've got a little place in the Doone Valley, Devonshire, you know,"
said Lord Charles, talking to Oliver quite confidentially. "It's a mere
box--just enough for ourselves, and we should have to rough it, rough
it awfully. But there's plenty of game, and some fishing, and it's as
wild as a March hare!"
"That's just what his lordship wants," said Oliver. "I know him so
well, you see, my lord. I must say that I've taken the way we've been
going on lately very serious; it isn't the money, that don't matter, my
lord; and it isn't altogether the wildness, we've been wild before, my
lord, you know."
Lord Charles grunted.
"But that was only in play like, and there is no harm in it; but this
sort of thing that's being going on hasn't been play, and it ain't
amused his lordship a bit; why he's more down than when we came up."
"That's so, Oliver," assented Lord Charles, gloomily.
"I don't know what it was, and it isn't for me to be curious, my lord,"
continued the faithful fellow, "but it's my opinion that something went
wrong down at the Hall, and that his lordship cut up rough about it."
Lord Charles, remembering that letter and the beautiful girl at the
cottage, nodded.
"Perhaps so," he said. "Well, we'll go down to the Doone Valley.
Better pack up to-night, or rather this morning. I'll go home and get a