"Lady Sibyl, I am glad to see this wretched play offends you."
She turned her deep eyes on me in mingled surprise and amusement.
"Oh no, it doesn't," she declared--"I have seen so many like it. And I
have read so many novels on just the same theme! I assure you, I am
quite convinced that the so-called 'bad' woman is the only popular type
of our sex with men,--she gets all the enjoyment possible out of
life,--she frequently makes an excellent marriage, and has, as the
Americans say 'a good time all round.' It's the same thing with our
convicted criminals,--in prison they are much better fed than the honest
working-man. I believe it is quite a mistake for women to be
respectable,--they are only considered dull."
"Ah, now you are only joking!" I said with an indulgent smile. "You know
that in your heart you think very differently!"
She made no answer, as just then the curtain went up again, disclosing
the unclean 'lady' of the piece, "having a good time all round" on board
a luxurious yacht. During the unnatural and stilted dialogue which
followed, I withdrew a little back into the shadow of the box, and all
that self-esteem and assurance of which I had been suddenly deprived by
a glance at Lady Sibyl's beauty, came back to me, and a perfectly stolid
coolness and composure succeeded to the first feverish excitement of my
mind. I recalled Lucio's words--"_I believe Lady Sibyl is for
sale_"--and I thought triumphantly of my millions. I glanced at the old
earl, abjectly pulling at his white whiskers while he listened anxiously
to what were evidently money schemes propounded by Lucio. Then my gaze
came back appraisingly to the lovely curves of Lady Sibyl's milk-white
throat, her beautiful arms and bosom, her rich brown hair of the shade
of a ripe chestnut, her delicate haughty face, languid eyes and
brilliant complexion,--and I murmured inwardly--"All this loveliness is
purchaseable, and I will purchase it!" At that very instant she turned
to me and said--
"You are the famous Mr Tempest, are you not?"
"Famous?" I echoed with a deep sense of gratification--"Well,--I am
scarcely that,--yet! My book is not published ..."
Her eyebrows arched themselves surprisedly.
"Your book? I did not know you had written one?"
My flattered vanity sank to zero.
"It has been extensively advertised," I began impressively,--but she
interrupted me with a laugh.
"Oh I never read advertisements,--it's too much trouble. When I asked if
you were the famous Mr Tempest, I meant to say were you the great
millionaire who has been so much talked of lately?"
I bowed a somewhat chill assent. She looked at me inquisitively over the
lace edge of her fan.
"How delightful it must be for you to have so much money!" she
said--"And you are young too, and good-looking."
Pleasure took the place of vexed _amour-propre_ and I smiled.
"You are very kind, Lady Sibyl!"
"Why?" she asked laughing,--such a delicious little low laugh--"Because
I tell you the truth? You _are_ young and you _are_ good-looking!
Millionaires are generally such appalling creatures. Fortune, while
giving them money, frequently deprives them of both brains and personal
attractiveness. And now do tell me about your book!"
She seemed to have suddenly dispensed with her former reserve, and
during the last act of the play, we conversed freely, in whispers which
assisted us to become almost confidential. Her manner to me now was full
of grace and charm, and the fascination she exerted over my senses
became complete. The performance over, we all left the box together, and
as Lucio was still apparently engrossed with Lord Elton I had the
satisfaction of escorting Lady Sibyl to her carriage. When her father
joined her, Lucio and I both stood together looking in at the window of
the brougham, and the Earl, getting hold of my hand shook it up and down
with boisterous friendliness.
"Come and dine,--come and dine!" he spluttered excitedly; "Come--let me
see,--this is Tuesday--come on Thursday. Short notice and no ceremony!
My wife is paralysed I'm sorry to say,--she can't receive,--she can only
see a few people now and then when she is in the humour,--her sister
keeps house and does the honours,--Aunt Charlotte, eh Sibyl?--ha-ha-ha!
The Deceased Wife's Sister's Bill would never be any use to me, for if
my wife were to die I shouldn't be anxious to marry Miss Charlotte
Fitzroy! Ha ha ha! A perfectly unapproachable woman sir!--a model,--ha
ha! Come and dine with us, Mr Tempest,--Lucio, you bring him along with
you, eh? We've got a young lady staying with us,--an American, dollars,
accent and all,--and by Jove I believe she wants to marry me ha ha ha!
and is waiting for Lady Elton to go to a better world first, ha ha! Come
along--come and see the little American, eh? Thursday shall it be?"
Over the fair features of Lady Sibyl there passed a faint shadow of
annoyance at her father's allusion to the "little American," but she
said nothing. Only her looks appeared to question our intentions as well
as to persuade our wills, and she seemed satisfied when we both accepted
the invitation given. Another apoplectic chuckle from the Earl and a
couple of handshakes,--a slight graceful bow from her lovely ladyship,
as we raised our hats in farewell, and the Elton equipage rolled away,
leaving us to enter our own vehicle, which amid the officious roarings
of street-boys and policemen had just managed to draw up in front of the
theatre. As we drove off, Lucio peered inquisitively at me--I could see
the steely glitter of his fine eyes in the semi-darkness of the
brougham,--and said--
"Well?"