|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 7
"Nonsense, child! When you are married, you will know that the
easiest of all secrets to keep is a secret from your husband. I
give you my promise. Now begin!"
Clara hesitated painfully.
"I don't know how to begin!" she exclaimed, with a burst of
despair. "The words won't come to me."
"Then I must help you. Do you feel ill tonight? Do you feel as
you felt that day when you were with my sister and me in the
garden?"
"Oh no."
"You are not ill, you are not really affected by the heat--and
yet you turn as pale as ashes, and you are obliged to leave the
quadrille! There must be some reason for this."
"There is a reason. Captain Helding--"
"Captain Helding! What in the name of wonder has the captain to
do with it?"
"He told you something about the _Atalanta_. He said the
_Atalanta_ was expected back from Africa immediately."
"Well, and what of that? Is there anybody in whom you are
interested coming home in the ship?"
"Somebody whom I am afraid of is coming home in the ship."
Mrs. Crayford's magnificent black eyes opened wide in amazement.
"My dear Clara! do you really mean what you say?"
"Wait a little, Lucy, and you shall judge for yourself. We must
go back--if I am to make you understand me--to the year before we
knew each other--to the last year of my father's life. Did I ever
tell you that my father moved southward, for the sake of his
health, to a house in Kent that was lent to him by a friend?"
"No, my dear; I don't remember ever hearing of the house in Kent.
Tell me about it."
"There is nothing to tell, except this: the new house was near a
fine country-seat standing in its own park. The owner of the
place was a gentleman named Wardour. He, too, was one of my
father's Kentish friends. He had an only son."
She paused, and played nervously with her fan. Mrs. Crayford
looked at her attentively. Clara's eyes remained fixed on her
fan--Clara said no more. "What was the son's name?" asked Mrs.
Crayford, quietly.
"Richard."
"Am I right, Clara, in suspecting that Mr. Richard Wardour
admired you?"
The question produced its intended effect. The question helped
Clara to go on.
"I hardly knew at first," she said, "whether he admired me or
not. He was very strange in his ways--headstrong, terribly
headstrong and passionate; but generous and affectionate in spite
of his faults of temper. Can you understand such a character?"
"Such characters exist by thousands. I have my faults of temper.
I begin to like Richard already. Go on."
"The days went by, Lucy, and the weeks went by. We were thrown
very much together. I began, little by little, to have some
suspicion of the truth."
"And Richard helped to confirm your suspicions, of course?"
"No. He was not--unhappily for me--he was not that sort of man.
He never spoke of the feeling with which he regarded me. It was I
who saw it. I couldn't help seeing it. I did all I could to show
that I was willing to be a sister to him, and that I could never
be anything else. He did not understand me, or he would not, I
can't say which."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|