Read Ebook: Daughters of Belgravia; vol. 1 of 3 by Fraser Alexander Mrs

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 563 lines and 30954 words, and 12 pages

She listens rapt, as she always listens to each word and tone of the beloved voice, and she fully realises the intense misery of the situation.

Never to speak to Carl, never to see Carl, never to kiss Carl again!

Her cheek grows whiter, her spirit sinks, her courage to do right dies an ignominious death; and a lump rises up in her throat, and then seems to fall back on her heart like a great cold stone.

"Yes!" she whispers, and now, under the moonbeams, he sees a lovely pink colour steal over her face, and the sweetest, tenderest lovelight fill her big grey eyes. "Death would be a thousand times better, I could not live without you, Carl! I suppose it would be very wrong for us to go away, but it would be impossible to stay!"

"Of course it would, my child," he says quietly, as if assured of the fact.

The wish, the thought, the resolve are in her heart of hearts now. She looks up at his handsome face, meets the fervour in his brown eyes, and her pretty white arms, bare almost to the shoulder and with ropes of pearls glistening on them, steal round his neck, and her red lips plead wistfully.

"Not love you as you love me, Carl!" she says, with her sweet mouth twitching like a child's.

Venus Victrix--as is always the case.

If she had said she hated him, and yet looked as beautiful as she does, he would probably have adored her all the same, but now the clinging clasp, the loving grey eyes, the tremulous lips, and, above all, the abandon that love lends her, conquers completely, and the big strong man is the veriest baby, malleable as wax, in the circle of these dimpled arms and within earshot of the throb of his love's true heart.

"My own, my sweet!" he cries, stooping and kissing her from brow to chin. "I know you will come when I bid you, my Zai!"

"When you bid me, Carl," she says, her head against his shoulder, her eyes fixed on his face.

Silence for a minute or two. The fresh night air sweeps over them, the leaves rustle gently overhead, and they are as virtually alone as Adam and Eve in Eden. Suddenly the strains of a band fall faintly on the quiet square, and they both start from dreamland into reality.

She listens a moment.

He glances at his watch.

"Half-past one o'clock!--nearly one hour and a-half. Who would believe it, little one? Nearly an hour and a half, that has flown like this because you and I are alone together. Just so our lives will pass like a delicious dream, my Zai. I don't think any two people in this world ever loved one another as we do. The very first time I saw you--do you remember? It was at Lady Derringham's. I have been devoted to fat, fussy Lady Derringham ever since! I knew it was all over with me. No more flirtations, no more bachelor ways for me. I knew it was my wife standing before me, in a sweet little blue dress, with a bunch as big as herself of lilies of the valley in her bosom. Zai, did you feel any instinct of the kind?"

"Yes," she whispers, nestling into his arms and kissing his coat-sleeve surreptitiously.

The strains of the Estudiantina Waltz are still floating on the still air. The moon has hidden her face behind a bank of greyish cloud, and already the first pink tinge of dawn peeps down on earth.

"Tell me what you felt?" he says, forgetful of time, of the convenances, of Lady Beranger's wrath, and clasping her nearer, he tenderly draws the long dark cloak closer round her slender throat.

Carlton Conway laughs as he listens, but it is scarcely a laugh that denotes mirth. Eight-and-twenty--he has never found a true woman yet to his thinking, until this one came and sat down in blind adoration at his feet, and gave all her pure and loving heart and soul into his keeping--unreservedly--unquestioningly--and brought a sense of happiness with her which he had never pictured even in his dreams.

Tired of hearing that she loves him! When her love is the one thing in all the world to him. It is these words of hers that make him laugh. They seem so strange and absurd, when he knows that his whole being is full of her. So he answers her by wrapping his arms round her, and pressing fond, fervent kisses on her brow and lids and sweet tempting lips--the lips that are his, and that no other man has touched like this. He has culled their perfume and fragrance, and as he feels this to be true, each kiss that he gives and takes seems to be a link in the chain of love that binds them together.

"When do your people leave town, Zai?" he asks her, "and for how long?"

"The day after to-morrow, Carl," she answers, stifling back a sob, for Hampshire seems to be the world's end from London, "but we shall be back in a week."

"And who has Lady Beranger invited down to Sandilands?"

"Mr. Hamilton and Lord Delaval."

Carlton Conway grinds his heel into the ground with impotent rage.

"So," he mutters, "both are eligible men. How well Lady Beranger knows what she's about. I wonder for which of her lovely daughters she is trying to hook old Hamilton?"

"For Trixy I think, Trixy always gets on with elderly men. I believe she is really in love with someone, and is therefore indifferent if her companions are old or young."

Carl Conway reddens. Of course everybody knows that Trixy Beranger, who used to be the biggest flirt in town when she came out two years ago, has sobered down strangely, and everybody puts down the change to the influence of Carl Conway.

"Ah!" she cries, with a happy smile, "that is only a mile from Sandilands."

"Yes, but you know Crystal Meredyth is rather fond of me, and Mrs. Meredyth doesn't object to followers, even if they are artists or actors."

Zai shivers from head to foot in the warm June night, and grows white to her quivering lips as she draws herself away gently from his clasp.

"What is it, darling?" he asks anxiously.

No answer.

Zai's head droops so that he cannot see her eyes, so he puts his hand under her chin and lifts up her face, and as he gazes down at it he thinks that God never made so beautiful a thing as she who has been made for him. The red lips quiver, her sweet eyes tell him such a wondrous tale of love, that he forgets everything but himself and her.

How he longs to carry her away in his stalwart arms. His darling, his little sweetheart!

"Come, Zai, my own, own Zai! Speak to me, tell me once more that you love me, that no one will ever make you forget me. It drives me wild to think that those fellows at Sandilands will be near you, and I away."

"You will have--Crystal Meredyth!" she whispers tremulously, then she breaks into a passion of tears, each of which stab him to the heart.

He kisses them off, and holds her to him fondly, and what with caresses and love words, draws the smiles back to her mouth, and the pink colour to her cheek.

"Zai, will you swear to be as true to me as I shall be true to you?"

"I swear," she replies unhesitatingly.

"And you won't let those fellows, Delaval and Hamilton, dare to make love to you?"

"I believe you would, my child," he answers in a trustful voice, "and now let us say good-night here, though I am going back to the house to show myself."

"Good-night!"

And, like Romeo and Juliet, they find parting is such sweet sorrow that it is some moments before it takes place.

And when Zai leaves him, he murmurs to himself, truthfully, honestly:

"My God, how I love her!"

Ten minutes afterwards, he is valsing to the strain of "Love's Dreamland" with Crystal Meredyth, and whispering low to her, and Crystal, who has set him up as a hero to worship, blushes and smiles with intense satisfaction.

SANDILANDS.

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence."

It must be a rose-tinted existence. So outsiders fancy as they look at Sandilands from under the shadowy light and shade that falls across some mossy bank, but before they venture an opinion on the subject, let them pause. The judging of other folks' lives by their external surroundings is the most deceptive work possible.

Sandilands is a paradise, but, like the original Paradise, it has a serpent crawling over its flowers--nay, it has more than one.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet