The Red House Mystery. Duchess

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      "At last!" said John Dillwyn. "You have not given it away? You have remembered?"

      "The dance?"

      "Yes. You know you said you would give me the first on your arrival."

      "But this! I am so late! I could not have expected you to wait—"

      "I have waited, however. And it is mine?" He was now looking at her anxiously. What did her manner, her hesitation, mean?

      "Yes, of course, but have you no partner?"

      "I have, indeed"—laughing. "One I would not readily change. I have you."

      "But," looking up at him a little shyly after this plain speech, "how did you arrange it?"

      "Very simply. This will be my first waltz as well a yours."

      "Oh, that is too bad of you," said the girl, colouring softly. She meant to be angry with him, perhaps; but if so, the effort was a dead failure. The corners of her lips were smiling, and a happy light had crept into her eyes. "To wait so long, and—"

      "It was long. I admit that," interrupted he, smiling. "I thought you would never come."

      "It was all Mrs. Poynter's fault," said Agatha. "And really, but for me I am sure she would not be here even now."

      "Well, come on, now; let us get even a turn or two," said Dillwyn. "By the bye, the next—is that free?"

      "Yes," said Agatha. She felt a little frightened. She hoped he would not know she had kept it free purposely. Four or five men had asked her for dances whilst she stood near the door on her arrival with Mrs. Poynter, and when giving them a dance here and there she had steadily refused to part with the next one. She did not tell herself why at the moment, but she knew all the same.

      "May I have it?" asked Dillwyn, with such a delightful anxiety that all at once her mind was set at rest.

      He suspected nothing, thought of nothing but his fear that the dance might have been given away before he could ask her for it. Oh, how dear he was! Was there ever any one so good, so perfect?

      He passed his arm round her waist, and together they joined the dancers.

      Agatha waltzed delightfully. Her lovely svelte figure swayed and sympathised with the music, just as though it had caught her and was moving with her. Dillwyn waltzed well too.

      The dance was too soon at an end.

      "The night is lovely," said he, "will you come out?" He felt that he wanted to be more alone with her; the presence of the people round checked him, destroyed the keenness of the joy he always knew when with her.

      "I should like it," said she.

      They went towards the conservatory, from which there were steps to the garden outside. The door of the conservatory opened off the dancing-room, and was close to where Agatha had been standing on her entrance. Darkham was still there.

      He had not stirred since Agatha had floated away with Dillwyn's arm around her. He had watched her persistently. He watched her now as she went through the conservatory door down to the gardens, that glad, sweet light upon her face. Were his wife's words true then, after all? Was there something between her and that fellow—that interloper, who had come from no one knew where, to dispute his right in all the parish ailments? His eyes followed them as though they could not tear themselves away, as Dillwyn and Agatha, happy, laughing, went out of the door beyond into the mild and starlit night.

      A laugh roused him; it was his wife's. A terrible vision in scarlet satin, trimmed with black velvet bows, met his gaze as he turned. Mrs. Darkham was distinctly en fête to-night.

      "Well, СКАЧАТЬ