"_Sapristi_! that's all very well. But you have the money; you can't
grumble. Again, why need we fear the failure? You have beauty--indeed,
you're the best-looking woman in Brussels. As long as you retain that
charm, we need not be apprehensive."
"You pay me a pretty compliment, Victor," she laughed. "Nevertheless, I
must admit my face has always been my fortune."
"And other people's misfortune, eh?" observed her companion, smiling
grimly.
"Well, that's certainly one way of putting it, but you--"
"M'sieur Trethowen desires to see mademoiselle," Nanette said, for she
had opened the door unobserved.
"Trethowen!" gasped Victor, twisting his moustache nervously. "He must
not find us together."
"No," exclaimed Valerie. "Go quickly through the garden, and out by the
side door."
He had already put on his hat, and without further hesitation he waved
his hand, and vanished through a door communicating with the
conservatory.
"_Au revoir_," he said. "You will know how to manage him, and I will
return at six to take you to the Moliere."
She went to a long mirror and hurriedly arranged her hair; then, turning
to the maid, ordered her visitor to be shown in.
"I wonder what his object is in coming here," she muttered to herself,
as she sank into her wicker chair, and commenced twisting her rings
round her shapely fingers perplexedly. "Surely he cannot suspect! Yet
the threats of that fool Egerton still ring in my ears," and she frowned
thoughtfully.
When her visitor entered she rose, calm and pale, to meet him.
"So you have returned to me at last, Hugh," she said in a faltering
voice, almost overcome with emotion.
"Yes, dearest," he replied, placing his arm around her waist, and
drawing her closely to him. "I have come to beg forgiveness for being
so rash."
"My forgiveness!" she exclaimed in a tone of surprise, looking up into
his face. "Why, I have nothing really to forgive."
"I judged you too hastily, Valerie, and, now I have learned the error of
my ways, I have come over here to receive your pardon."
"And I grant that freely," she said, with a happy smile, for she was
unfeignedly delighted that he had returned.
"Do you know," he said, as he slowly released her, and sank into a chair
beside her, "I've been unspeakably dull and miserable. By Jove! life
hasn't been worth living lately."
"Why?" asked she naively.
"Because you have been absent."
"I should scarcely have thought it," observed mademoiselle
mischievously. "You had Jack Egerton's model. Surely she did not
object to a mild flirtation?"
"Dolly Vivian! I flirt with her!" he echoed in surprise. "No, indeed,
I've never done so. She is my friend, it is true; but nothing more."
"Ah, don't tell me that, Hugh. You men are all alike. A pretty woman's
face, a smile, a pair of merry eyes, and you are captivated."
"But I have not been, except by yourself," he declared, grasping her
hand, and raising it reverently to his lips. "You do not know how blank
and colourless my life has been without you--what an utterly miserable
existence mine is when we are apart."
He spoke low and earnestly, for all the fervour of the old love had
returned, and, heedless of the warnings of his friends, he was repeating
assurances of affection to the woman who held him in her toils for life
or death. She did not reply, but, gazing trustingly into his eyes, her
breast heaved convulsively.
"Tell me, shall we be the same to one another as before? Forgive me,
and we shall live as if nothing had happened to mar our happiness," he
urged.
"Then, you really love me still, Hugh?" she asked, in a low, tremulous
voice.
"Still love you? Yes; my heart and soul are yours. I care for no other
woman save yourself."
"Was it to be near me that you came here? Are you certain it was for no
other reason?"
"No," he replied, puzzled at her question. "Why do you ask?"
"Out of curiosity," she stammered evasively. "I--I thought other
business might, perhaps, have brought you here."
Glancing round the apartment, and recognising the elegance with which it
was furnished, he complimented her upon her taste.
"Yes," she answered languidly. "This place suits me admirably. It is
my home, and although I'm of a wandering disposition, and travel a good
deal, I return here now and then to enjoy rest and obtain those comforts
that are appreciable after hotel life. I am, perhaps, too cosmopolitan.
Well, it is my failing. Since I was a girl, I have been accustomed to
travel for pleasure, and I do so now in order to get life and variety,
without which I don't really believe I could exist."
"Not if you were married?"
"Ah! possibly that would be different," she said, with a rippling laugh.
"I could then take some pleasure in my home, and my husband would be my
companion, whereas at present I have only Nanette, my maid. You have
little idea, Hugh, of the wearying monotony of the life of women who are
alone in the world. We are utterly defenceless, and must either be
prudes, and lead the existence of nuns, of, if we dare go about and
enjoy ourselves, we are stigmatised as fast, and looked upon as
undesirable and contaminating companions. I am unconventional; I care
not a jot for the opinion of the world, good or bad; and, as a natural
sequence, women--many of them notorious, though married--revile me
unjustly."
She uttered the words in all seriousness, and he felt compassion for
her, as he knew well what she said was the truth.
"I can quite understand that your position is somewhat unenviable,
Valerie; nevertheless, I have come here to-day to repeat the promise I
made some time ago."
"Your promise! Why--"
"I love you dearly and will marry you, providing you will consent," he
added, interrupting her.
Her head sank upon his shoulder, and she burst into tears of joy, while
he kissed her fair face, and smoothed her hair tenderly.
"I promise you," he murmured, "if you become my wife you shall never
regret. It is true, some say harsh things of you. I have heard gossip,
but I've shut my ears to the lies of those who envy your good looks. In
future, however, those who defame you shall answer to me."
She lifted her face, wet with tears, to his, and their lips met in an
ardent caress.
"Yes, I love you dearly, Hugh," she declared, trying to subdue her
emotion. "This day is one of the happiest of my life. If we are
married, I swear I will be a true wife to you, notwithstanding the
calumnies you have heard."
Thus, after months of estrangement, Hugh Trethowen again fell an easy
prey to her fatal power of fascination; and he, blind and headstrong,
saw her only as a beautiful woman, who was unhappy, and who loved him.
Yet it has been the same through ages. Men, under the spell of a
daughter of Eve, a temptress who is more than passing fair, become weak
and impressionable as children, and are ruled absolutely by the woman
they worship, be she good or evil.
Until the sunset streamed into the pretty room, and the silver bells of
the dainty ormolu clock chimed six, they sat together undisturbed. Many
were the pledges of undying affection they exchanged; then he left,
promising to call next day.
When he had gone, Valerie reseated herself, and gave herself up to one
of those debauches of melancholy in which she sometimes indulged; for,
after all, she was not entirely devoid of sentiment.
Could Hugh have overheard the conversation between Victor and the woman
who was his affianced wife an hour later, he would, however, scarcely
have congratulated himself upon the result of the interview.
Victor Berard and Valerie were together in a hired brougham on their way
to the Theatre Moliere, where they had previously secured a box.
"So you are friends again, eh?" Victor was saying, laughing. "Well, I
must congratulate you upon your wonderful tact and diplomacy. The
manner in which you have acted in leaving him to follow you here has
allayed suspicion, and as long as you can exercise your power over him,
we have nothing to fear as to the ultimate success of our plan."
"It was as good as a comedy," declared she, laughing heartily. "I told
him how lonely I was, and did the emotional dodge--squeezed a tear or
two, just to add to the realism--and it brought him to the point at
once. You should have been there; you would have been highly amused,
for he's such a believing idiot, that I can do just as I like with him."
"You're a clever girl, Valerie. With all your airs and graces, I
believe you'd deceive the Evil One himself, if it was to your own
interest to do so."
"I don't know whether to regard that as a compliment or not," she
remarked merrily, as she drew her opera cloak more closely around her
shoulders, and leaned back in the carriage listlessly. "I suppose,
however, from our point of view, the amount of deceit and craftiness I
display in dealing with him will secure the more or less successful
issue of our scheme."
"If he knew everything, our position would not be a very enviable one,
would it?"
"Scarcely. But, you see, my dear Victor, he doesn't know all, and will
not, unless Egerton peaches, which he dare not do on account of his own
neck. Therefore, we are quite safe, and can negotiate the little affair
without interruption."
"I believe that you really care for the fellow a little--just a little,"
her companion said, with a sarcastic laugh.
"And supposing that I did? I am my own mistress and can act as I
please," returned she, a trifle annoyed.
"_Bien_! you know best how to manage him, for you've had experience. I
only urge you to be careful, and avoid any sentimental humbug."
"Bah! I want none of your advice," was all she replied, and a long
silence ensued, which was not broken until the carriage drew up at the
door of the theatre.