Stories with a Vengeance — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OR RUNS YOUR MIND he had ever seon who came up to his Lady Clare constituted herself a,sort of gratuitous chaperon to the youthful chate- laine, and earned the girl’s gratitude by ‘ initiating her into various little pomts of English etiquette. er ladyahi still craved for Sir Clyffe’s seciety, as a drunkard thirsts for alcohol, yet hated him because he loved his wife, si thought of herself simply as an early nd. She was quite convinced this was the light in which he now: regarded her, al- though four months ago it appeared more than likely he would offer her his hand. When she reflected how near the cup was to her lips when dashed away by the beau- tiful young French Countess, she became almost mad: and if evil wishes could have brought woe to Lucy, her present happiness wouldn’t have been worth five minutes’ purchase. Lady Clare, however, was not fool enough to show hatred openly, but acted the family friend, and gradually insinuated herself into the confidence of both husband and wife. Net that they made as yet a confidante of anybody; but should either ever find it necessary to consult a third party, it would be to her they would instinctively turn. The only tiny cloud upon the clear: horison of the Buronet’s wedded bliss was the fact that no opportunity had turned up for telling his wife about the unfortunate girk secluded within the .ivy-clad walls which she so often admired from the dress- ing-room window. Once and again, when he tried to lead ep to the subject, Lucy madvertently gave expression to opinions whieh had the effect of stopping him short. He. forvently wished he had had the moral courage to make a clean breast at the Chateau Belfort. ‘Looking back, it seemed such an easy thmg to have spoken then, thdt now he could not understand why he had not done sO. But, in the intervening months, he had pondered over the matter till the original mole-bill had grown as big as a mountam, while his sensitive imagination brought him in guilty of deception as. well as con- cealment—not wilful deceit, but a dis- honourable distrust of Lucy’s reliance upon his good faith. “How could I be so cowardly,” he said te himself, “as to presume to m my darling without making her fully aware-that my cousin being insane, madness Google ON ANOTHER LOVE? 108 may some day be my doom also? shouldn't it? is a hereditary curse, and may seize ita victim when least expected.” As time ran on, this idea, once started, increased in strength, and he got into a habit of introspecting his mental con- dition, and readiag medical works upon bram disease. Nay, but for the fear of his forebodings being professionally corroborated, he would have run up to town, and laid his case hefore a physician. Still, in spite of the uncomfortable hours all this gave him, his incubus often relaxed its hold, and left him free to confess him- self happy in Lucy’s love. CHAPTER VIL Ir was very unusual for Lord Marston to sojourn at his mansion at Dane Rock during the winter months; but that season he preferred staymg till after - Christmas. ; The intimacy between the two families had steadily increased since Lucy’s first arrival, two months before, and scarcely a day now passed without mutual intercourse in the way of boating, walks, drives, or rides. Although it was the last week of Novem. ber, the weather felt delightfully mild and balmy, proving the truth of what Gilbert White remarks in his much-quoted “ His. tory of Selborne,”—viz., “That November is the only month in England when the atmosphere oecasionally has the soothing, bracing feel of Italian air.” A favourite walk of the four friends was @ wild, romantic path, which ran along the chffs for a mile amd a half between the Cpstle and Lord Marston’s grounds. It was an exquisite road, now dippin betwixt steep crags, now meandering roun tiny fairy-lke dells, green eren at that season, and gay with sea-pinks, and anon skirting along the ridge of rocky heights that stretched down a hundred and samt feet into the blue-green waters whic lapped their base. From the elevated srbuation of the pe. destrians the view was glorious. Though it consisted only of the open sea and an occa- sional sail, yet the beholder felt inspired with a boundless sense of freedom, and as far removed from every-day associations as if he had eaten of the fabled lotus-leaf. As the footpath was too narrow for two to walk abreast, it frequently happened that Lord Marston and tme went Indian file, while Lady Clare and Sir Olyffe pro. CY, JOO S CO)