Phyllis. Duchess

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СКАЧАТЬ has passed his arm lightly round my waist, and is keenly noting the effect of his words.

      "I remember the other day you told me how you longed to visit foreign lands. I will take you abroad, and you shall stay there as long as you wish—until you have seen everything your fancy has pictured to you. You will like all this, Phyllis; it pleases you."

      There is no use in denying it. All this does please me. Nay, more; it intoxicates me. I am heart-whole, and can therefore freely yield myself up to the enjoyment of the visions he has conjured up before me. I feel I am giving in swiftly and surely. My refusing to marry him will not make him a whit more anxious to marry Dora; and instinct tells me now she is utterly unsuited to him. Still I am reluctant.

      "Would you let me have Billy and mamma and Dora with me very often?" I ask faintly.

      His arm round me tightens suddenly.

      "As often as ever you wish," he says, with strange calmness. "I tell you you shall be my queen at Strangemore, and your wishes shall be law."

      "And"—here I blush crimson, and my voice sinks to a whisper—"there is something else I want very, very much. Will you do it for me?"

      "I will. Tell me what it is."

      His tone is so quiet, so kind, I am encouraged; yet I know by the trembling of the hand that holds mine that the quiet is enforced.

      "Will you send Billy to Eton for me?" I say, my voice shaking terribly. "I know it is a very great thing to ask, but he so longs to go."

      "I will do better than that," he answers softly, drawing me closer to him as he sees how soon I shall be his by my own consent. "I will settle on you any money you wish, and you shall send Billy to Eton, and afterwards to Oxford or Cambridge."

      This assurance, given at any other time, would have driven me half mad with delight. Now, though my heart feels a strong throb of pleasure, it is largely mingled with what I know is pain. Am I selling myself?

      Some finer instinct within me whispers to me to pause before giving myself irrevocably to a man whom I certainly do not love as a woman should love the one with whom she elects to buffet all the storms and trials of life. A horrible thought comes to me and grows on my lips. I feel I must give it utterance.

      "Suppose," I say, suddenly, "suppose—afterwards—when I have married you, I see some one to love with all my heart and mind: what then?"

      He shivers. He draws me passionately, almost fiercely to him, as though defying my miserable words to come true.

      "What put such a detestable idea into your head?" he asks hoarsely, with pale lips. "Are you trying to frighten me? Shall I tell you how that would end? You would be my murderess as surely as though you drove a knife into my heart. What an evil thought! But I defy it," he says, forcing a smile. "Once you are mine, once you belong to me altogether, I will hold you against yourself—against the world. Oh Phyllis, my child, my love—"

      He pauses, and, putting his hand under my chin, turns up my face until my head leans against his arm and my eyes look straight into his. His face is dangerously close to mine; it comes closer, closer, until suddenly, without a word of warning, his lips meet mine in a long, eager, passionate kiss.

      It is the first time a lover's kiss has been laid upon my lips. I do not struggle or seek to free myself. I only burst into a storm of tears. I am frightened, troubled, and lie trembling and sobbing in his arms, hardly knowing what I feel, hardly conscious of anything but a sense of shame and fear. I know, too, that Marmaduke's heart is beating wildly against my cheek.

      "Phyllis, what is it? what have I done?" he asks, very anxiously. "My darling, was I too abrupt? Did I frighten you? Forgive me, sweet; I forgot what a mere timid child you are."

      I sob on bitterly.

      "It shall not happen again; I promise you that, Phyllis, I will never kiss you again until you give me permission. Now surely you will forgive me. My darling, why should it grieve you so terribly?"

      "I don't know," I whisper, "only I do not want to be married, or have a lover, or anything."

      Marmaduke lays his cheek very gently against mine, and for a long time there is silence between us. After awhile my sobs cease, and he once more breaks the silence by saying:—

      "You will marry me, Phyllis?" and I answer, "Yes," very quietly, somehow feeling as if that kiss had sealed my fate, and put it out of my power to answer "No."

      "Then look at me," says Marmaduke, tenderly. "Will you not let me see my dear wife's face?"

      I raise a face flushed and tear-stained and glance at him shyly for a moment. Evidently its dimmed appearance makes no difference to him, as there is unmistakable rapture and triumph in his gaze as he regards it. I hide it again with a sigh, though now the Rubicon being actually passed, I feel a sense of rest I had not known before.

      "Who is to tell them at home?" I ask presently.

      "I will. Shall I go back with you now and tell them at once?"

      "No, no," I cry, hastily, shrinking from the contemplation of the scene that will inevitably follow his announcement. "It is too late now. To-morrow—about four o'clock—you can come and get it over. And, Mr. Carrington, will, will you please be sure to tell them I knew nothing of it—never suspected, I mean, that you cared for me?"

      "That I loved you? It would be a pity to suppress so evident a fact. Though how you could have been so blind, my pet, puzzles me. Well, then, to-morrow let it be. And now I will walk home with you, lest any hobgoblin, jealous of my joy should spirit you away from me."

      Together and rather silently we go through the wood and out into the road beyond. I am conscious that every now and then Marmaduke's eyes seek my face and dwell there with a smile in them that betrays his extreme and utter satisfaction. As for me, I am neither glad nor sorry, nor anything, but rather fearful of the consequence when my engagement shall be made public in the home circle. As yet my marriage is a thing so faint, so far away in the dim distance, that it causes me little or no annoyance.

      Suddenly I stop short in the middle of the road and burst into irrepressible laughter.

      "What is it?" asks Mr. Carrington, who is smiling in sympathy.

      "Oh that sneeze!" I say when I can speak "coming just in the middle of your proposal. Could anything have been so unsuitable, so utterly out of place? That odious little convulsion! I shall always think of the whole scene with abhorrence."

      "Suppose I propose to you all over again?" suggests Mr. Carrington. "It is impossible you can bring it in so unfortunately a second time; and you can then recollect the important event with more complaisance."

      "No, no. A second addition would be flat, stale, and unprofitable; and besides, it does not really matter, does it? Only I suppose it would be more correct to feel grave and tearful, instead of comical, on such occasions."

      "Nothing matters," exclaims Marmaduke, fervently, seizing my hand and kissing it, "since you have promised to be my wife. And soon Phyllis—is it not so?"

      "Oh, no; certainly not soon," I return, decidedly. "There is plenty of time. There is no hurry; and I do not СКАЧАТЬ