"I love you--I love you!"
On both sides it was a blind infatuation. Agony and torture she
underwent as she put to herself the momentous question--Was she
justified in accepting, when acceptance meant ruin? Was it just? Was
it natural? Were the horrible passages of her life to haunt her,
sleeping and waking, to madden her with their hideous vividness? Had
her past deprived her of her right to live--of her right to love?
Hugh told himself that he had found his very ideal: his dreams, his
faith, and love in all that is noble and upright in Valerie's mind,
heart, eyes, and tone. She seemed to promise him the commencement of a
new existence. With her he might again be happy; he would have some one
to enter into his feelings, stand by him, and bestow on him that true
affection that all men seek, but few, alas! find. He loved her with all
the strength of his being.
Suddenly a thought flashed across Valerie's mind, and her resolution
became concentrated on it. These were different manifestations of her
dual nature. In a moment her lips were set firmly, and seemed silently
to defy the feelings of affection that had just been stirred so
strangely within her. She was contracting a debt to be paid for by a
terrible penalty.
A glowing sunbeam, penetrating the thick foliage overhead, bathed the
handsome Frenchwoman's light dress and olive cheeks with light, flecking
the warm-tinted gravel on the walk. The distant band had paused. The
deep silence of the avenue was broken only now and then by the low
murmur of the trees. She revelled in the warm atmosphere, and felt
lulled by the faint music of the rustling leaves. He, too, was lost in
contemplation. In this green nook, with its gnarled trunks and
fragments of blue sky revealed through the foliage, he felt far away
from the world, as dreamy as if floating on a lake, as he abandoned
himself to the enjoyment of the splendid afternoon.
"Then it is settled," he said, at last. "We will be married in London
as soon as you can obtain your trousseau."
Had they not been so oblivious of their surroundings, it is probable
they would have observed a man, half concealed behind a neighbouring
tree, who had been keeping a close watch upon them. Creeping cautiously
from his hiding-place, he drew himself up, and walked towards them with
a pleasant smile on his face. It was Adolphe Chavoix.
"Ah," he exclaimed, as they looked up and recognised him, "I've been
hunting for you everywhere. The Count wants us to drive to the Cascade.
Come along, there's not a moment to lose, or we shan't be back in time
for _table d'hote_. Why, you've hidden yourselves all the afternoon."
"We plead guilty to the indictment, old fellow," Hugh replied, jumping
to his feet enthusiastically. "The fact is, I've spent the afternoon
very profitably, for I've won a wife."
"Oh!" he exclaimed in surprise, raising his eyebrows, and exchanging a
quick glance with mademoiselle.
"Yes, Valerie has consented to marry me. We leave this place to-morrow,
and shall be married in London within a month."
"Bravo! I congratulate you both," he said, grasping Trethowen's hand,
and raising his hat politely to mademoiselle.
"Thanks, Adolphe," replied Hugh. "All I desire is that our future may
be as bright and cloudless as to-day."
"What can mar it? Why, nothing! You and Valerie love one another--I
suspected it from the first," he remarked, laughing. "You will marry,
settle down in comfort and happiness, and grow old and grey, like--like
the couple in your English song--Darby and Joan."
They laughed merrily in chorus.
"I don't much admire your prophecy. It's bad form to speak of a woman
growing old," observed Valerie reprovingly. "Nevertheless, I'm
confident we shall be as happy as the pair in the song. And when we're
married, I'm sure Hugh will welcome you as one of our dearest friends."
"Of course," answered Trethowen. "Adolphe and the Count will always be
welcome at Coombe. By Jove, when I get them down there I'll have my
revenge at baccarat, too."
"Why, look, here's the Count coming after us," exclaimed Valerie,
suddenly catching sight of a distant figure in a grey tweed suit and
white waistcoat. "Come, let's go and meet him."
So the trio started off in that direction.
After meeting him they emerged from the avenue into the Place Royale,
and Trethowen left them for a moment to purchase some cigars.
"I've had a visitor to-day," mademoiselle exclaimed, as she strolled on
with Victor and Pierre; "some one you both know."
"Who?" asked the men eagerly.
"Willoughby."
"Willoughby!" gasped Berard, halting in amazement. "Then he has tracked
us! He must be silenced."
"Don't act rashly," remarked Valerie coolly. "You forget there's a bond
between us that renders it extremely undesirable that he should divulge
anything. For the present, at least, we are quite safe. I've effected
a compromise with him which is just as binding on one side as on the
other. After all, when everything is considered, our prospects have
never been rosier than they are at this moment."
"But Willoughby. He can ruin us if he chooses. He knows of the affair
at Carqueiranne."
"And what if he does? How could he prove who did it? If he knew, don't
you think he would have had the reward long ago?" she argued.
"Has he seen Trethowen?"
"No; if he had, the circumstances might be different," she replied
coolly.
"Keep them apart. They must not meet, for reasons you well understand,"
he said significantly; for, truth to tell, he feared the captain more
than he did his Satanic Majesty himself.
"Of course, a recognition would be decidedly awkward," she admitted;
"but they are not likely to see one another--at least, not yet. Up to
the present my diplomacy has proved effectual. With regard to the ugly
incidents which you mentioned, have I not coerced Jack Egerton into
silence, and my husband, he is--"
"Here, by your side, dearest," a voice added, finishing the sentence.
Starting, she turned, to find to her dismay and embarrassment that Hugh
had returned unnoticed, and was standing at her elbow.
"Why, you really frightened me," she said nervously, with a forced,
harsh laugh. "I was explaining to the Count the reason I prefer living
in England after our marriage. He says we ought to live in Paris."
"Oh," Hugh said indifferently, but made no further remark.
Mademoiselle and her companion were serious and apprehensive lest he had
overheard their conversation.
Crossing the Place, they continued their walk in silence.
As they entered the hotel a letter from Egerton was handed to Hugh.
When alone in his room he opened it, and found it was dated from London,
and that it had been forwarded from Brussels.
"I suppose you are enjoying yourself thoroughly in the company of _la
belle_ Valerie," he wrote, after the usual greetings, and upbraidings
for not answering a former note. "Well, you know my sentiments," he
continued; "I need not repeat them. But, by the way, I have since
thought that is perhaps because I once spoke harshly of her that you
have been annoyed. I only had your welfare at heart, I assure you, and,
as we are old friends, if I have said anything to vex you, pray forgive
me."
"Bosh!" ejaculated Hugh savagely. "He tries to set me against her
because he wants her himself. He gives no reason for his absurd
warnings, but acts the sentimental fool."
He was about to toss the letter into the fire impatiently without
reading further, when a name caught his eye.