AFFIANCED
The ball was at its height. Gwendolen, who had been in to supper eight
times, placed her hand timidly on the arm of Lord Beltravers, who had
just begged a polka of her.
"Let us sit this out," she said. "Not here--in the garden."
"Yes," said Lord Beltravers gravely. "Let us go. I have something to say
to you."
Offering her his arm he led her down the great terrace which ran along
the back of the house.
"How wonderful to have your ancestors always round you like this!" cooed
Gwendolen, as she gazed with reverence at the two statues which fronted
them.
"Venus," said Lord Beltravers shortly, "and Samson."
He led her down the steps and into the ornamental garden, and there they
sat down.
"Miss French," said Lord Beltravers, "or if I may call you by that sweet
name, 'Gwendolen,' I have brought you here for the purpose of making an
offer to you. Perhaps it would have been more in accordance with
etiquette had I approached your mother first."
"Mother is dead," said the girl simply.
"I am sorry," said Lord Beltravers, bending his head in courtly
sympathy. "In that case I should have asked your father to hear my
suit."
"Father is deaf," she replied. "He couldn't have heard it."
"Tut, tut," said Lord Beltravers impatiently; "I beg your pardon," he
added at once, "I should have controlled myself. That being so," he went
on, "I have the honour to make to you, Miss French, an offer of
marriage. May I hope?"
Gwendolen put her hand suddenly to her heart. The shock was too much for
her fresh young innocence. She was not _really_ engaged to Giles
Earwaker, though he too was hoping; and the only three times that Thomas
Ritson had kissed her she had threatened to box his ears.
"Lord Beltravers," she began----
"Call me Beltravers," he begged.
"Beltravers, I love you. I give you a simple maiden's heart."
"My darling!" he cried, clasping her thumb impulsively. "Then we are
affianced."
He slipped a ring off his finger and fitted it affectionately on two of
hers.
"Wear this," he said gravely. "It was my mother's. She was a de
Dindigul. See, this is their crest--a roeless herring over the motto
'_Dans l'huile_'." Observing that she looked puzzled he translated the
noble French words to her. "And now let us go in. Another dance is
beginning. May I beg for the honour?"
"Beltravers," she whispered lovingly.