reply, but, gazing trustingly into his eyes, herbreast heaved convulsively.
"Tell me, shall we be the same to one another as before? Forgive me,and we shall live as if nothing had happened to mar our happiness," heurged.
"Then, you really love me still, Hugh?" she asked, in a low, tremulousvoice.
"Still love you? Yes; my heart and soul are yours. I care for no otherwoman save yourself."
"Was it to be near me that you came here? Are you certain it was for noother reason?"
"No," he replied, puzzled at her question. "Why do you ask?"
"Out of curiosity," she stammered evasively. "I--I thought otherbusiness might, perhaps, have brought you here."
Glancing round the apartment, and recognising the elegance with which itwas furnished, he complimented her upon her taste.
"Yes," she answered languidly. "This place suits me admirably. It ismy home, and although I'm of a wandering disposition, and travel a gooddeal, I return here now and then to enjoy rest and obtain those comfortsthat are appreciable after hotel life. I am, perhaps, too cosmopolitan.Well, it is my failing. Since I was a girl, I have been accustomed totravel for pleasure, and I do so now in order to get life and variety,without which I don't really believe I could exist."
"Not if you were married?"
"Ah! possibly that would be different," she said, with a rippling laugh."I could then take some pleasure in my home, and my husband would be mycompanion, whereas at present I have only Nanette, my maid. You havelittle idea, Hugh, of the wearying monotony of the life of women who arealone in the world. We are utterly defenceless, and must either beprudes, and lead the existence of nuns, of, if we dare go about andenjoy ourselves, we are stigmatised as fast, and looked upon asundesirable and contaminating companions. I am unconventional; I carenot a jot for the opinion of the world, good or bad; and, as a naturalsequence, women--many of them notorious, though married--revile meunjustly."
She uttered the words in all seriousness, and he felt compassion forher, as he knew well what she said was the truth.
"I can quite understand that your position is somewhat unenviable,Valerie; nevertheless, I have come here to-day to repeat the promise Imade some time ago."
"Your promise! Why--"
"I love you dearly and will marry you, providing you will consent," headded, interrupting her.
Her head sank upon his shoulder, and she burst into tears of joy, whilehe kissed her fair face, and smoothed her hair tenderly.
"I promise you," he murmured, "if you become my wife you shall neverregret. It is true, some say harsh things of you. I have heard gossip,but I've shut my ears to the lies of those who envy your good looks. Infuture, however, those who defame you shall answer to me."
She lifted her face, wet with tears, to his, and their lips met in anardent caress.
"Yes, I love you dearly, Hugh," she declared, trying to subdue heremotion. "This day is one of the happiest of my life. If we aremarried, I swear I will be a true wife to you, notwithstanding thecalumnies you have heard."
Thus, after months of estrangement, Hugh Trethowen again fell an easyprey to her fatal power of fascination; and he, blind and headstrong,saw her only as a beautiful woman, who was unhappy, and who loved him.Yet it has been the same through ages. Men, under the spell of adaughter of Eve, a temptress who is more than passing fair, become weakand impressionable as children, and are ruled absolutely by the womanthey worship, be she good or evil.
Until the sunset streamed into the pretty room, and the silver bells ofthe dainty ormolu clock chimed six, they sat together undisturbed. Manywere the pledges of undying affection they exchanged; then he left,promising to call next day.
When he had gone, Valerie reseated herself, and gave herself up to oneof those debauches of melancholy in which she sometimes indulged; for,after all, she was not entirely devoid of sentiment.
Could Hugh have overheard the conversation between Victor and the womanwho was his affianced wife an hour later, he would, however, scarcelyhave congratulated himself upon the result of the interview.
Victor Berard and Valerie were together in a hired brougham on their wayto the Theatre Moliere, where they had previously secured a box.
"So you are friends again, eh?" Victor was saying, laughing. "Well, Imust congratulate you upon your wonderful tact and diplomacy. Themanner in which you have acted in leaving him to follow you here hasallayed suspicion, and as long as you can exercise your power over him,we have nothing to fear as to the ultimate success of our plan."
"It was as good as a comedy," declared she, laughing heartily. "I toldhim how lonely I was, and did the emotional dodge--squeezed a tear ortwo, just to add to the realism--and it brought him to the point atonce. You should have been there; you would have been highly amused,for he's such a believing idiot, that I can do just as I like with him."
"You're a clever girl, Valerie. With all your airs and graces, Ibelieve you'd deceive the Evil One himself, if it was to your owninterest to do so."
"I don't know whether to regard that as a compliment or not," sheremarked merrily, as she drew her opera cloak more closely around hershoulders, and leaned back in the carriage listlessly. "I suppose,however, from our point of view, the amount of deceit and craftiness Idisplay in dealing with him will secure the more or less successfulissue of our scheme."
"If he knew everything, our position would not be a very enviable one,would it?"
"Scarcely. But, you see, my dear Victor, he doesn't know all, and willnot, unless Egerton peaches, which he dare not do on account of his ownneck. Therefore, we are quite safe, and can negotiate the little affairwithout interruption."
"I believe that you really care for the fellow a little--just a little,"her companion said, with a sarcastic laugh.
"And supposing that I did? I am my own mistress and can act as Iplease," returned she, a trifle annoyed.
"_Bien_! you know best how to manage him, for you've had experience. Ionly urge you to be careful, and avoid any sentimental humbug."
"Bah! I want none of your advice," was all she replied, and a longsilence ensued, which was not broken until the carriage drew up at thedoor of the theatre.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
DOLLY'S INDISCRETION.
In London, evening was gradually creeping on. The mellow light that hadpenetrated into the studio in Fitzroy Square was fast fading, still JackEgerton worked on in silence, glancing constantly across at the womanwho sat motionless before him, straining her eyes over a novel she heldin her hand.
Frequently he paused, and, stepping back a few paces, examined theeffect of his work with a critical eye, comparing it with the original.Then he returned and retouched the picture again and again, until atlast, after much perseverance, he apparently obtained the exact effecthe desired. The picture was certainly attractive, and, althoughincomplete, yet fully sustained the artist's reputation for faithfuldelineation of the female form. It was a representation of Dolly Vivianreclining on a silken divan, attired in the flimsy gauzes, with rows ofsequins across her forehead, heavy bangles upon her wrists and ankles,and her light brown hair, unbound, falling negligently about hershoulders. One tiny crimson slipper had fallen off, revealing awell-shaped naked foot, the other being bent under her as she lay withone bare arm flung over her head.
Her attitude of languor and repose among her cushions added to theOriental character of the picture, and the richness of the silk withwhich the couch was covered, enhanced her beauty.
He had christened the picture, "The Sultan's Favourite."
While he worked she always preserved perfect silence. It was theirrule. For hours she would sit scarcely moving a muscle, her attentionengaged by a newspaper, a novel, or some fancy needlework, unless,perhaps, he addressed her, asking an opinion or advice. Then she wouldusually reply briefly and to the point, and resume her reading withoutdisturbing her pose in the smallest degree.
Beside her, on a little inlaid pearl table, stood the cup of tea Mrs.O'S
hea had brought her an hour before, but which had been left almostuntasted, so absorbed was she in her book. She did not notice that theartist had laid aside his palette, and was cleaning his brushes, untilhe exclaimed,--
"That will do for to-day, Dolly. You must be awfully tired and cramped,for we've had an unusually long spell."
His voice recalled her to consciousness. Stretching both arms above herhead, she gave a stifled yawn, and slowly rose from her couch with alanguid grace. Slipping her foot into the shoe, she stepped down towhere he was standing.
"Why, what's the time?" she asked, noticing it was growing dusk.
"Half-past six," he replied. "I've an engagement to dine at theVagabond Club at the Holborn at seven,