No. 222 (EAGLE SERIES) 10 CENTS
THE LILY OF MORDAUNT
[Illustration]
BY MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
THE EAGLE SERIES
STREET & SMITH, Publishers
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demand for the entire series continues. The following titles are in
print, and can be supplied by all newsdealers:
224--A Wonderful Woman. By May Agnes Fleming.
223--Leola Dale’s Fortune. By Charles Garvice.
222--The Lily of Mordaunt. By Mrs. George Sheldon.
221--Wedded Yet No Wife. By May Agnes Fleming.
220--A Fatal Past. By Dora Russell.
219--Lost, A Pearle. By Mrs. George Sheldon.
218--A Life for a Love. By Mrs. L. T. Meade.
217--His Noble Wife. By George Manville Fenn.
216--The Lost Bride. By Clara Augusta.
215--Only a Girl’s Love. By Charles Garvice.
214--Olga’s Crime. By Frank Barrett.
213--The Heiress of Egremont. By Mrs. Harriet Lewis.
212--Doubly Wronged. By Adah M. Howard.
211--As We Forgive. By Lurana W. Sheldon.
210--Wild Oats. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
209--She Loved but Left Him. By Julia Edwards.
208--A Chase for a Bride. By St. George Rathborne.
207--Little Golden’s Daughter. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
206--A Daughter of Maryland. By G. Waldo Browne.
205--If Love be Love. By D. Cecil Gibbs.
204--With Heart So True. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
203--Who Was the Heir. By Geraldine Fleming.
202--Marjorie. By Katharine S. MacQuoid.
201--Blind Elsie’s Crime. By Mary Grace Halpine.
200--In God’s Country. By D. Higbee.
199--Geoffrey’s Victory. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
198--Guy Kenmore’s Wife, and The Rose and the Lily.
By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
197--A Woman Scorned. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
196--A Sailor’s Sweetheart. By the author of Dr. Jack.
195--Her Faithful Knight. By Gertrude Warden.
194--A Sinless Crime. By Geraldine Fleming.
193--A Vagabond’s Honor. By Ernest De Lancey Pierson.
192--An Old Man’s Darling, and Jacquelina. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
191--A Harvest of Thorns. By Mrs. H. C. Hoffman.
190--A Captain of the Kaiser. By St. George Rathborne.
189--Berris. By Katharine S. MacQuoid.
188--Dorothy Arnold’s Escape. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
187--The Black Ball. By Ernest De Lancey Pierson.
186--Beneath a Spell. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
185--The Adventures of Miss Volney. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
184--Sunlight and Gloom. By Geraldine Fleming.
183--Quo Vadis. By Henryk Sienkiewicz.
182--A Legal Wreck. By William Gillette.
181--The Baronet’s Bride. By May Agnes Fleming.
180--A Lazy Man’s Work. By Frances Campbell Sparhawk.
179--One Man’s Evil. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
178--A Slave of Circumstances. By Ernest De Lancey Pierson.
177--A True Aristocrat. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
176--Jack Gordon, Knight Errant. By William C. Hudson (Barclay North).
175--For Honor’s Sake. By Laura C. Ford.
174--Wild Margaret. By Geraldine Fleming.
173--A Bar Sinister. By the Author of Dr. Jack.
172--A King and a Coward. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
171--That Dakota Girl. By Stella Gilman.
170--A Little Radical. By Mrs. J. H. Walworth.
169--The Trials of an Actress. By Wenona Gilman.
168--Thrice Lost, Thrice Won. By May Agnes Fleming.
167--The Manhattaners. By Edward S. Van Zile.
166--The Masked Bridal. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
165--The Road of the Rough. By Maurice M. Minton.
164--Couldn’t Say No. By the author of Helen’s Babies.
163--A Splendid Egotist. By Mrs. J. H. Walworth.
162--A Man of the Name of John. By Florence King.
161--Miss Fairfax of Virginia. By the author of Dr. Jack.
160--His Way and Her Will. By Frances Aymar Mathews.
159--A Fair Maid of Marblehead. By Kate Tannatt Woods.
158--Stella, the Star. By Wenona Gilman.
157--Who Wins? By May Agnes Fleming.
156--A Soldier Lover. By Edward S. Brooks.
155--Nameless Dell. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
154--Husband and Foe. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
153--Her Son’s Wife. By Hazel Wood.
152--A Mute Confessor. By Will N. Harben.
151--The Heiress of Glen Gower. By May Agnes Fleming.
150--Sunset Pass. By General Charles King.
149--The Man She Loved. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
148--Will She Win? By Emma Garrison Jones.
147--Under Egyptian Skies. By the author of Dr. Jack.
146--Magdalen’s Vow. By May Agnes Fleming.
145--Country Lanes and City Pavements. By Maurice M. Minton.
144--Dorothy’s Jewels. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
143--A Charity Girl. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
142--Her Rescue from the Turks. By the author of Dr. Jack.
141--Lady Evelyn. By May Agnes Fleming.
140--That Girl of Johnson’s. By Jean Kate Ludlum.
139--Little Lady Charles. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
138--A Fatal Wooing. By Laura Jean Libbey.
137--A Wedded Widow. By T. W. Hanshew.
136--The Unseen Bridegroom. By May Agnes Fleming.
135--Cast Up by the Tide. By the author of Half a Truth.
134--Squire John. By the author of Dr. Jack.
133--Max. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
132--Whose Was the Crime? By Gertrude Warden.
131--Nerine’s Second Choice. By Adelaide Stirling.
130--A Bitter Bondage. By Bertha M. Clay.
129--In Sight of St Paul’s. By Sutton Vane.
128--The Scent of the Roses. By the author of Half a Truth.
127--Nobody’s Daughter. By Clara Augusta.
126--The Girl from Hong Kong. By the author of Dr. Jack.
125--Devil’s Island. By A. D. Hall.
124--Prettiest of All. By Julia Edwards.
123--Northern Lights. By A. D. Hall.
122--Grazia’s Mistake. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
121--Cecile’s Marriage. By Lucy Randall Comfort.
120--The White Squadron. By T. C. Harbaugh.
119--An Ideal Love. By Bertha M. Clay.
118--Saved From the Sea. By Richard Duffy.
117--She Loved Him. By Charles Garvice.
116--The Daughter of the Regiment. By Mary A. Denison.
115--A Fair Revolutionist. By the author of Dr. Jack.
114--Half a Truth. By a popular author.
113--A Crushed Lily. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
112--The Cattle King. By A. D. Hall.
111--Faithful Shirley. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
110--Whose Wife Is She? By Annie Lisle.
109--A Heart’s Bitterness. By Bertha M. Clay.
108--A Son of Mars. By the author of Dr. Jack.
107--Carla; or, Married at Sight. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
106--Lilian, My Lilian. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
105--When London Sleeps. By Chas. Darrell.
104--A Proud Dishonor. By Genie Holzmeyer.
103--The Span of Life. By Sutton Vane.
102--Fair But Faithless. By Bertha M. Clay.
101--A Goddess of Africa. By the author of Dr. Jack.
100--Alice Blake. By Francis S. Smith.
99--Audrey’s Recompense. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
98--Claire. By Charles Garvice.
97--The War Reporter. By Warren Edwards.
96--The Little Minister. By J. M. Barrie.
95--’Twixt Love and Hate. By Bertha M. Clay.
94--Darkest Russia. By H. Grattan Donnelly.
93--A Queen of Treachery. By T. W. Hanshew.
92--Humanity. By Sutton Vane.
91--Sweet Violet. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
90--For Fair Virginia. By Russ Whytal.
89--A Gentleman From Gascony. By Bicknell Dudley.
88--Virgie’s Inheritance. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
87--Shenandoah. By J. Perkins Tracy.
86--A Widowed Bride. By Lucy Randall Comfort.
85--Lorrie; or Hollow Gold. By Charles Garvice.
84--Between Two Hearts. By Bertha M. Clay.
83--The Locksmith of Lyons. By Prof. Wm. Henry Peck.
82--Captain Impudence. By Edwin Milton Royle.
81--Wedded For an Hour. By Emma Garrison Jones.
80--The Fair Maid of Fez. By the author of Dr. Jack.
79--Marjorie Deane. By Bertha M. Clay.
78--The Yankee Champion. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.
77--Tina. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
76--Mavourneen. From the celebrated play.
75--Under Fire. By T. P. James.
74--The Cotton King. By Sutton Vane.
73--The Marquis. By Charles Garvice.
72--Wilful Winnie. By Harriet Sherburne.
71--The Spider’s Web. By the author of Dr. Jack.
70--In Love’s Crucible. By Bertha M. Clay.
69--His Perfect Trust. By a popular author.
68--The Little Cuban Rebel. By Edna Winfield.
67--Gismonda. By Victorien Sardou.
66--Witch Hazel. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
65--Won By the Sword. By J. Perkins Tracy.
64--Dora Tenney. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
63--Lawyer Bell from Boston. By Robert Lee Tyler.
62--Stella Stirling. By Julia Edwards.
61--La Tosca. By Victorien Sardou.
60--The County Fair. By Neil Burgess.
59--Gladys Greye. By Bertha M. Clay.
58--Major Matterson of Kentucky. By the author of Dr. Jack.
57--Rosamond. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
56--The Dispatch Bearer. By Warren Edwards.
55--Thrice Wedded. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
54--Cleopatra. By Victorien Sardou.
53--The Old Homestead. By Denman Thompson.
52--Woman Against Woman. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands.
51--The Price He Paid. By E. Werner.
50--Her Ransom. By Charles Garvice.
49--None But the Brave. By Robert Lee Tyler.
48--Another Man’s Wife. By Bertha M. Clay.
47--The Colonel By Brevet. By the author of Dr. Jack.
46--Off With the Old Love. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
45--A Yale Man. By Robert Lee Tyler.
44--That Dowdy. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
43--Little Coquette Bonnie. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
42--Another Woman’s Husband. By Bertha M. Clay.
41--Her Heart’s Desire. By Charles Garvice.
40--Monsieur Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack.
39--The Colonel’s Wife. By Warren Edwards.
38--The Nabob of Singapore. By the author of Dr. Jack.
37--The Heart of Virginia. By J. Perkins Tracy.
36--Fedora. By Victorien Sardou.
35--The Great Mogul. By the author of Dr. Jack.
34--Pretty Geraldine. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
33--Mrs. Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack.
32--The Blockade Runner. By J. Perkins Tracy.
31--A Siren’s Love. By Robert Lee Tyler.
30--Baron Sam. By the author of Dr. Jack.
29--Theodora. By Victorien Sardou.
28--Miss Caprice. By the author of Dr. Jack.
27--Estelle’s Millionaire Lover. By Julia Edwards.
26--Captain Tom. By the author of Dr. Jack.
25--Little Southern Beauty. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
24--A Wasted Love. By Charles Garvice.
23--Miss Pauline of New York. By the author of Dr. Jack.
22--Elaine. By Charles Garvice.
21--A Heart’s Idol. By Bertha M. Clay.
20--The Senator’s Bride. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
19--Mr. Lake of Chicago. By Harry DuBois Milman.
18--Dr. Jack’s Wife. By the author of Dr. Jack.
17--Leslie’s Loyalty. By Charles Garvice.
16--The Fatal Card. By Haddon Chambers and B. C. Stephenson.
15--Dr. Jack. By St. George Rathborne.
14--Violet Lisle. By Bertha M. Clay.
13--The Little Widow. By Julia Edwards.
12--Edrie’s Legacy. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
11--The Gypsy’s Daughter. By Bertha M. Clay.
10--Little Sunshine. By Francis. S. Smith.
9--The Virginia Heiress. By May Agnes Fleming.
8--Beautiful but Poor. By Julia Edwards.
7--Two Keys. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
6--The Midnight Marriage. By A. M. Douglas.
5--The Senator’s Favorite. Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.
4--For a Woman’s Honor. By Bertha M. Clay.
3--He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. By Julia Edwards.
2--Ruby’s Reward. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
1--Queen Bess. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.
_To the Reader_
We trust that you will be thoroughly satisfied with this book. During
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STREET & SMITH.
The Lily of Mordaunt
_A NOVEL_
BY
MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
AUTHOR OF
“FAITHFUL SHIRLEY,” “BROWNIE’S TRIUMPH,” “QUEEN BESS,”
“LOST, A PEARLE,” “MAX,” ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
238 WILLIAM STREET
Copyright, 1884, 1899 and 1901,
By STREET & SMITH
THE LILY OF MORDAUNT.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A PERFECT BEAUTY.
CHAPTER II. “WHICH IS THE MORE LOVELY?”
CHAPTER III. A FRIEND IN NEED.
CHAPTER IV. I WILL WIN YOU YET.
CHAPTER V. UNHEEDED FLEW THE HOURS.
CHAPTER VI. DISAPPOINTMENT.
CHAPTER VII. “I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU.”
CHAPTER VIII. BETROTHED LOVERS.
CHAPTER IX. THE FIRST WEDDING.
CHAPTER X. ARLEY’S VISITOR.
CHAPTER XI. I CANNOT GIVE YOU UP.
CHAPTER XII. IT SEEMS INCREDIBLE.
CHAPTER XIII. THE PORTRAIT.
CHAPTER XIV. THE ENGAGEMENT RING.
CHAPTER XV. A TEARFUL FAREWELL.
CHAPTER XVI. THE DOOR LOCKED UPON HIM.
CHAPTER XVII. BAD NEWS.
CHAPTER XVIII. ARLEY’S RESOLVE.
CHAPTER XIX. JANE COLLINS’ STORY.
CHAPTER XX. ARLEY’S ILLNESS.
CHAPTER XXI. A WICKED DEED.
CHAPTER XXII. SAVED.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE LAST APPEAL.
CHAPTER XXIV. A FRIEND IN NEED.
CHAPTER XXV. PHILIP PAXTON’S RETURN.
CHAPTER XXVI. JANE COLLINS AT HOME.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE TRUTH TOLD.
CHAPTER XXVIII. ADDING INSULT TO INJURY.
CHAPTER XXIX. PHILIP PAXTON’S LETTER.
CHAPTER XXX. FORTUNE’S WHEEL.
CHAPTER XXXI. THE RING.
CHAPTER XXXII. MRS. BANCROFT’S NARRATIVE.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE CRASH ON THE RAILROAD.
CHAPTER XXXIV. A “LADY BORN.”
CHAPTER XXXV. THE GOOD SAMARITAN.
CHAPTER XXXVI. THE STRANGE LETTER.
CHAPTER XXXVII. IN A DILEMMA.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. ARLEY’S AMAZEMENT.
CHAPTER XXXIX. LADY ALICE.
CHAPTER XL. ATONEMENT.
CHAPTER XLI. I AM HIS WIFE.
CHAPTER XLII. WHERE AM I?
CHAPTER XLIII. A NOBLE MANHOOD RESTORED.
CHAPTER XLIV. PERFECT FAITH.
CHAPTER XLV. WIL HAMILTON.
CHAPTER XLVI. MIMOSA.
CHAPTER XLVII. HOMEWARD BOUND.
CHAPTER XLVIII. CAN IT BE TRUE?
CHAPTER XLIX. LADY PAXTON.
CHAPTER I.
A PERFECT BEAUTY.
Hazelmere, June 30, 18--.
Dear Phil--I promised when we were all at home that I would send
for you. We are a gay party, I can tell you--five constitute our
number, and we need only your own jolly self to complete the sextet.
There is pretty Arley Wentworth, my sister’s especial friend and
chum; Fred Vane, Annie’s fiancee, and last, but not least, aside
from your humble servant, my father’s charming ward, the Lady Elaine
Warburton. What shall I say of her?--how give you an idea of her
surpassing loveliness? I will say nothing. I can only quote from
our poet laureate: “Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable! Elaine the
lily-maid,” not of Astolat, but of the house of Mordaunt, and the
daughter not “of a hundred earls,” like the “Lady Clare,” but of the
Duke of Mordaunt, who died abroad about five years ago, having first
committed his only child to the care of my respected paternal, who
was his dearest and most trusted friend. She has been at a convent in
France most of the time since her father’s death, and I have scarcely
seen her since she was a little maid in short clothes; consequently,
I was wholly unprepared for the vision of loveliness which burst upon
my sight, when, on my return from Oxford, I was presented to the
peerless Elaine.
You perceive, old fellow, how it is with me; I have “gone clean
daft.” I see nothing, think of nothing, save a fair, creamy face,
with the faintest flush, like that of a sea-shell, on its rounded
cheeks, while shining bands of gold span the pure, white brow,
beneath which eyes of purple-blue seem to be looking at one through
a golden mist. Then those dainty lips! so sweet, so red, that they
never part with smile or word but they set my heart on fire. She
has a form of faultless symmetry, a hand like a piece of fairest
sculptured marble, and a foot which a fairy might envy.
I said I would not say anything about her, but I’ve written all this
nonsense almost before I knew it. I’m getting decidedly spooney, I’ll
own, but you will not wonder when you see my “lily-maid.” Come down
right away, and we will have gay times for the next month. You will
like Arley Wentworth, who, by the way, is quite an heiress, and just
your style--dark, brilliant, bewitching.
You shall be her cavalier on all occasions. You perceive that I
have done the pairing-off; for I warn you beforehand that I shall
brook no rival for the affections of my peerless Lily of Mordaunt.
I can imagine the curl of amusement, perhaps mingled with something
of scorn, on your handsome lips as you read this, mon ami. You will
remember how indifferent I have always been to the charms of the
gentle sex--you will recall my rank skepticism regarding my ever
losing my heart to any woman, however lovely; but I can’t help
it--it’s all up with me now, though I doubt if the rack would ever
have made me confess as much to any one else. Telegraph when you will
be here, and I will meet you at the station.
Yours ever,
WIL.
Philip Paxton, Esq., a young and rising barrister, sat in his chamber,
in Grey’s Inn, one hot, dusty day, when all London seemed gasping for
breath, so to speak, and read the above effusion; while his lips did,
indeed, curl, but with decided “scorn” rather than with “amusement.”
“I should say he was ‘clean daft,’” he muttered, “poor, foolish Wil!”
“And he will ‘brook no rival for the affections of the fair Elaine!’”
he added, a flash of something like defiance for a moment lighting up
his dark eyes.
“Bah!” he continued, “the name is enough for me--I never could endure
that love-sick tale, where that poor little fool, Elaine, died for
love of Lancelot, and the very sound of it is a synonym to me of a
sort of milk-and-water beauty, and a weak-minded, silly little girl.
Now Arley Wentworth,” he went on, referring to his friend’s letter
again, “sounds something like--there is character in it, and, at all
events, originality. Let me see, this is Wednesday; I imagine that I
can arrange matters and things so that I can run down to Hazelmere on
Saturday. I think I’ve earned a rest,” he concluded, with a sigh, while
his eyes roved with something of pride over the piles of papers and
documents filed so neatly away in the pigeonhole of his great desk, and
telling of long days of hard work and well-earned gold.
He took up his pen, and, drawing a sheet of paper toward him, at
once wrote a letter of acceptance to the invitation of his friend,
and mentioned Saturday afternoon as the time set for his arrival at
Hazelmere, the magnificent country seat of Sir Anthony Hamilton, a
wealthy baronet, who owned half the township of Horsham, Sussex County,
England.
* * * * *
Saturday afternoon, when the half-past four express from London stopped
for a moment at the station of Horsham, a tall, well-proportioned young
man of about twenty-five, sprang upon the platform and looked about
him as if expecting to see some one whom he knew awaiting him.
There was a stately air about him which at once attracted attention, a
certain poise of the handsome head, a look of character and decision
about his attractive face, a certain gravity and dignity of manner, and
a fire in his dark blue eye which impressed the beholder at once with
an idea of superiority and power.
And yet, a closer scrutiny of that face by those who were skillful in
reading human nature, always engendered a feeling of distrust, as if
underneath all that ability, power and culture there was an element
which was liable, under certain circumstances, to work mischief for
both himself and others.
His clothing was of the finest texture and most fashionable make, yet
there was not the least suspicion of the dandy about him; everything
was immaculate, yet in perfect taste.
“Aha! here you are, old boy, and now I am happy,” cried a genial voice
near by, and the next moment his hand was eagerly taken and heartily
shaken by a young man about his own height, but of slighter build, with
a frank, laughing face, clear, honest blue eyes, waving auburn hair,
and a voice whose heartiness and cordiality rang out like a rich strain
of music on the summer air.
This was Wilton, or, as he was more familiarly called, Wil Hamilton,
only son of Sir Anthony and heir to his title and large estates.
“If you had disappointed me,” he ran on, in a gay tone, and still
shaking the hand that he held, “I should have given you the ‘cut
direct’ the next time we met. We are all here after you--the three
graces, attended by Fred and myself. Come this way and I’ll introduce
you; but, beware!”--with a mock tragic air--“don’t you dare to lift
covetous eyes to the fair Elaine, or I shall throw my gauntlet at your
feet on the spot. Arley Wentworth, by the way, is on tiptoe to see you;
thinks you must be something extra; rather above the common run, you
know; for I’ve rung your praises unceasingly in her ears--of course I
had an object in view--during the last few days.”
“Thank you,” returned Philip Paxton, in a slightly sarcastic tone,
which caused his light-hearted friend to laugh outright.
“There! none of your grandiloquent airs, Phil, if you please. You know
they never did disturb me in the least, so they will do no good now. We
are all bound for a good time, and if your backbone gets too stiff, it
will be uncomfortable, not only for yourself, but for the rest of us.
“Here we are,” he added, as they came around to one end of the
station, where there stood a handsome pair of bays attached to a
wagonette, in which two ladies and a gentleman were seated.
“Annie,” he said, leading his friend toward them and addressing a
pretty girl, with a fair complexion and hazel eyes, “you do not need to
be introduced to Phil, but you shall give him a grip of welcome before
I present the others. Mr. Vane, this is my friend, Mr. Paxton; Miss
Wentworth, Mr. Paxton.”
Mr. Paxton, after greeting Annie Hamilton, shook hands with Mr. Vane
and lifted his hat to Miss Wentworth and was instantly impressed that
she was a “mighty pretty girl.”
Then he glanced about him in some curiosity, wondering where the “fair
Elaine” could be.
Wil Hamilton noticed it, and colored slightly.
“Come this way a moment, Phil, and I’ll finish all the introductions
at once,” he said; and slipping his arm within that of his friend, he
turned him about and led him toward an elegant phaeton, to which two
pretty, gray ponies were attached, and in which a slight, graceful girl
was seated.
“I could not drive any nearer, for the ponies are a trifle skittish,”
Wil explained, as he led him forward.
“Good Heavens! how beautiful she is!” the young man said to himself
when at last they stood beside the phaeton; and he never could remember
afterward how he conducted himself during the ceremony of introduction.
“The Lily of Mordaunt,” he repeated to himself, as he gazed upon her
exquisite loveliness, and, for the moment, was oblivious of everything
else.
He was conscious only of looking into eyes of liquid blue--eyes which
seemed to him to have fathomless depths, and through which some sweet
spirit was gazing up at him, thrilling his very soul with a strange
delight.
He saw a fair, low brow, over which rings of sunny hair lay in careless
grace; a delicate mouth, proud, yet sweet, sensitive, yet strong. He
noticed the dainty fairness of her skin, upon which there was not
the slightest blemish; the small ears, which seemed like molded wax,
and the rich, heavy rolls of golden hair, which shone like bands of
smoothed satin. He saw, too, the slight, perfect, yet stately figure,
with its beautifully-fitting dress of russet brown; the small hand so
daintily gloved; the soft ruching encircling her white throat, and
which was fastened with some costly and curiously-carved stone.
He took in every detail of her toilet--all her exquisite loveliness in
those few, brief moments, during which he stood bowing before her, and
exchanged polite greetings.
“She is like the matchless Calla lily,” he said to himself, “as pure,
as stately, as perfect. I do not wonder now at Wil’s rhapsodies, or
that he lost his heart when he saw her. But I wish her name was not
Elaine--I never liked it; though if this lily-maid of Astolat was
one-half so fair, I doubt if Queen Guinevere, even though she were
called the ‘pearl of beauty,’ could ‘hold a candle to her’--to quote a
common phrase; and Lancelot, that flower of bravery, made the greatest
mistake of his life when he turned the cold shoulder to her pleading.
Who could look upon such beauty unmoved? It is not in human nature.”
“Mr. Paxton will make our circle complete,” Lady Elaine said, turning
with a smile, and a slight blush, from his admiring eyes to speak to
Wil.
That smile disclosed the prettiest teeth--small, white, even; and in
vivid contrast to the sweet, scarlet lips.
Philip Paxton bowed his appreciation of this compliment, and a deeper
color tinged his own cheek.
“Yes,” Wil Hamilton answered, “we shall make a capital party, and now,
Phil, if you’ll take a seat in the wagonette with Miss Wentworth,
I’ll swing your portmanteau in forward under the driver’s seat, and
then we’ll be off for Hazelmere, where we shall doubtless find dinner
waiting.”
Philip lifted his hat to Lady Elaine, and turned away to comply with
his friend’s request.
But he was loath to go; and his eye lingered enviously upon the vacant
seat by her side.
How like a poem it would have been to be able to drive those spirited
ponies over the two miles to Hazelmere, with that peerless face so
near, and that sweet voice making music in his ears!
But he was, of course, obliged to submit to the arrangements already
made; and, springing to his post by Miss Wentworth’s side, they were
soon trotting along at a spanking rate over the beautiful moors,
while, before they had accomplished half the distance to Hazelmere,
his admiration was turned into a new channel, and he was compelled to
confess that Wil had certainly given him no “milk-and-water” beauty
for a companion, for Miss Arley Wentworth proved herself to be both
brilliant and interesting.
Half an hour’s drive brought them to Hazelmere’s hospitable doors,
where a cordial reception was accorded to the newcomers by Sir Anthony
Hamilton and his genial, motherly wife, and the gay party separated to
dress for dinner, which would soon be served.
“I will give you just twenty minutes, young ladies, so bestir
yourselves,” Lady Hamilton said, playfully, as the three girls came
trooping into the hall; “if you cannot make yourselves pretty enough in
that time, you will have to suffer the consequences.”
“What do you think of my ‘Lily of Mordaunt?’” Wil asked of Philip, as
he went to show him the room which had been prepared for him.
“Your Lily of Mordaunt!” he repeated, with a keen glance into the young
man’s face; “do you claim possession already?”
Wil flushed.
“Well,” he said, with a laugh, “I suppose I have no right to do that,
but, between you and me, I hope it will come to that before long. Is
she not lovely?”
“Very; and your name for her is very appropriate; but Miss Wentworth is
exceedingly beautiful, too,” Philip answered.
“Yes, Arley is very brilliant, and a fascinating little thing; besides,
she has twenty thousand pounds in her own right.”
“That is a snug little sum, to be sure; but, I suppose Lady Elaine is
very wealthy, also,” Philip remarked, with a side glance at his friend.
“Yes; the Duke of Mordaunt left an immense property--the income, I
believe is about as much as Arley’s whole fortune.”
“Indeed!” Mr. Paxton said, with a peculiar emphasis. “You will be a
lucky fellow, Wil, if you succeed in winning her peerless ladyship and
her immense fortune, also.”
“I have scarcely thought of the money,” Wil Hamilton replied, eagerly,
and flushing hotly. “She would be just the same to me if she hadn’t a
penny.”
“Nevertheless, a plethoric purse is a very convenient thing to possess
in the long run,” quoth Philip Paxton, dryly.
“Twenty thousand pounds a year!” he repeated, meditatively to himself,
after Wil had gone below. “How would a man feel, I wonder, to have the
handling of that amount, to say nothing of the privilege of sitting
_vis-a-vis_ three or four times a day with such a beauty as Lady Elaine
Warburton.”