Only a Girl's Love. Garvice Charles
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Название: Only a Girl's Love
Автор: Garvice Charles
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
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Stella's heart warmed directly.
"But perhaps now that you have come, you will persuade him to leave his shell."
"Do you mean the cottage? I don't think anything would persuade him to leave that. Why should he? He is quite happy."
The countess looked at her.
"That's a sensible retort," she said. "Why should he? I don't know – I don't know what to answer. But I owe him a grudge. Do you know that he has persistently refused to come and see me, though I have almost gone on my knees to him?"
Stella smiled.
"He does not care to go anywhere," she said. "If he went anywhere, I am sure he would come to you."
The old countess glanced at her approvingly.
"That was nicely said," she murmured. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen," said Stella, simply.
"Then you have inherited your uncle's brains," the old lady replied, curtly. "It is not given to every girl to say the right thing at nineteen."
Stella blushed, and looked round the room.
There were ten or twelve persons standing and sitting about, some of them beautiful women, exquisitely dressed, talking to some gentlemen; but Lord Leycester was not amongst the latter. She was conscious of that, although she scarcely knew that she was looking for him. She wondered which was Lady Lenore. There was a tall, fair girl leaning against the piano, but somehow Stella did not think it was the famous beauty.
The clock on the bracket struck eight, and she saw the earl take out his watch and glance at it mechanically; and as he did so, a voice behind her said:
"Dinner is served, my lady."
Nobody took any notice however, and the countess did not show by sign or look that she heard. Suddenly the curtains at the other end of the room were swung apart, and a tall form entered.
Though her eyes were fixed on another part of the room, she knew who it was, and for a moment she would not look that way, then she directed her eyes slowly, and saw that her instinct had not misled her.
It was Leycester!
For a moment she was conscious of a feeling of surprise. She thought she knew him well, but in that instant he looked so different that he seemed almost a stranger.
She had not seen him before in evening dress, and the change from the velvet coat and knickerbockers to the severe, but aristocratic, black suit struck her.
Like all well-made, high-bred men he looked at his best in the dress which fashion has decreed shall be the evening costume of gentlemen. She had thought him handsome, noble, in the easy, careless suit of velvet, she knew that he was distinguished looking in his suit of evening sables.
With his hand upon the curtain he stood, his head erect, his eyes not eagerly, but commandingly, scanning the room.
She could not tell why or how she knew, but she knew that he was looking for her.
Presently he sees her, and a subtle change came over his face, it was not a smile so much as a look of satisfaction, and she knew again that a frown would have settled on his white brow if she whom he sought had not been there.
With a high but firm step he came across the room and stood before her, holding out his hand.
"You have come," he said; "I thought you would not come. It is very kind of Mr. Etheridge."
She gave him her hand without a word. She knew that the keen gray eyes of the old lady beside her were fixed on her face. He seemed to remember too, for in a quieter, more commonplace, tone, he added:
"I am late; it is an habitual fault of mine."
"It is," said the old countess.
He turned his smile upon her.
"Are you going to scold me?"
"I am not fond of wasting my time," she said. "Come and sit down for a minute if you can."
He glanced at the clock.
"Am I not keeping you all waiting?" he said.
Lady Longford shook her head.
"No; we are waiting for Lenore."
"Then she is not here!" thought Stella.
"Oh, Lenore!" he said, with a smile. "Well, no one will dare to scold her."
As he spoke the curtain parted, and someone entered.
Framed by the curtain that fell behind her in crimson folds stood a girl – not yet a woman, for all her twenty-three years – of wonderful beauty, with deep golden hair and violet eyes.
Stella knew her at once from her uncle's description, but it was not the beauty that surprised her and made her start; it was something more than that. It was the nameless, indescribable charm which surrounded her; it was the grace which distinguished her figure, her very attitude.
She stood a moment, with a faint half-smile upon her lips, looking round; then she glided with a peculiar movement, that struck Stella as grace itself, to Lady Wyndward, and bent her head down to the countess.
Stella could not hear what she said, but she knew that she was apologizing for her tardiness by the way the earl, who was standing by, smiled at her. Yes, evidently Lady Lenore would not be scolded for keeping dinner waiting.
Stella sat watching her; she felt her eyes riveted to her in fact, and suddenly she was aware that the violet eyes were fixed on hers.
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