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Read Ebook: The Hoyden by Duchess
Font size: Background color: Text color: Add to tbrJar First Page Next PageEbook has 3122 lines and 114154 words, and 63 pagesHow Diamond cut Diamond, and how the Sparks flew How Margaret pleads for the little Hoyden, and with what Ill-success How Lady Rylton says a few Things that would have been better left unsaid. How "The Scheme" is laid before Sir Maurice, and how he refuses to have anything to do with it How the Heart of Maurice grew hot within him, and how he put the Question to the Touch, and how he neither lost nor won Showing how, when People do congregate together much Knowledge may be found, and how the little Hoyden has some kind Things said about her How Games were played, "of Sorts"; and how Tita was much harried, but how she bore herself valiantly, and, how, not knowing of her Victories, she won all through How the Argument grows higher; and how Marian loses her Temper, and how Margaret objects to the Ruin of one young Life How a Storm raged; and how, when a Man and Woman met Face to Face, the Victory--for a Wonder--went to the Man How Maurice places his Life in the Hands of the Hoyden, and how she tells him many Things, and desires many Things of him How Maurice gives Way to Temper, and how Lady Rylton plants a Shaft or two. And how Margaret says a Word in Season, and how in return Colonel Neilson says a Word to her How the last Day comes, and how some strange Words are said before the Marriage is accomplished; and how Marion Bethune scores a Point How Tita comes back from her Honeymoon, and how her Husband's Mother tells her of certain Things that should have been left untold How a young and lovely Nature takes a Shock most cruelly administered. And how a Dowager takes a new Name as a direct Insult. And how Tita declines to promise anything How Tita comes to Oakdean, and is glad. And how Maurice calls to her, and she performs an Acrobatic Feat. And how a Discussion arises How Tita tells of two strange Dreams, and of how they moved her. And how Maurice sets his Soul on asking a Guest to Oakdean; and how he gains his Desire How a dull Morning gives Birth to a strange Afternoon. And how Rylton's Eyes are widened by a Friend How Tita suggests a Game of Blind Man's Buff, and what comes of it How Tita gets a Scolding, and how she rebels and accuses Sir Maurice of Breach of Contract How Rylton's Heart condemns him. And how, as he walks, a Serpent stings him. And how he is recovered of his Wound. And how the little Rift is mended--but with too fine Thread How Tita takes high Ground, and how she brings her Husband, of all People, to her Feet How everyone goes to Lady Warbeck's Dance, and helps to make it a Success; and how many curious Things are said and done there How Rylton asks his Wife to tread a Measure with him, and how the Fates weave a little Mesh for Tita's pretty Feet How Marian fights for Mastery; and how the Battle goes; and how Chance befriends the Enemy How Rylton makes a most dishonourable Bet, and how he repents of it; and how, though he would have withdrawn from it, he finds he cannot How Tita told a Secret to Tom Hescott in the Moonlight; and how he sought to discover many Things, and how he was most innocently baffled How Tita looks at herself in the Glass, and wonders; and how she does her Hair in quite a new Style, and goes to ask Sir Maurice what he thinks of it; and how he answers her How Sir Maurice feels uneasy; and how Tita, for once, shows herself implacable, and refuses to accept the Overtures of Peace. And how a little Gossip warms the Air THE HOYDEN. HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND, AND HOW THE SPARKS FLEW. The windows are all wide open, and through them the warm, lazy summer wind is stealing languidly. The perfume of the seringas from the shrubbery beyond, mingled with all the lesser but more delicate delights of the garden beneath, comes with the wind, and fills the drawing-room of The Place with a vague, almost drowsy sense of sweetness. Mrs. Bethune, with a face that smiles always, though now her very soul is in revolt, leans back against the cushions of her lounging chair, her fine red hair making a rich contrast with the pale-blue satin behind it. "You think he will marry her, then?" She spreads her beautiful little hands abroad, as if in eloquent description of an end to her sentence. Mrs. Bethune bursts out laughing. She can always laugh at pleasure. "It sounds like the old Bible story," says she; "you have an only son, and you must sacrifice him!" "Don't study to be absurd!" says Lady Rylton, with a click of her fan that always means mischief. "Absurd! Have I been absurd?" asks Mrs. Bethune. "My dear Tessie"--she is Lady Rylton's niece, but Lady Rylton objects to being called aunt--"such a sin has seldom been laid to my charge." She leans back in her chair, and, once again unfurling the huge black fan she carries, waves it to and fro. Marian Bethune leans back in her chair too, and regards her aunt with a gaze that never wavers. The two poses are in their way perfect, but it must be confessed that the palm goes to the younger woman. It might well have been otherwise, as Lady Rylton is still, even at forty-six, a very graceful woman. Small--very small--a sort of pocket Venus as it were, but so carefully preserved that at forty-six she might easily be called thirty-five. If it were not for her one child, the present Sir Maurice Rylton, this fallacy might have been carried through. But, unfortunately, Sir Maurice is now twenty-eight by the church register. Lady Rylton hates church registers; they tell so much; and truth is always so rude! She is very fair. Her blue eyes have still retained their azure tint--a strange thing at her age. Her little hands and feet are as tiny now as when years ago they called all London town to look at them on her presentation to her Majesty. She has indeed a charming face, a slight figure, and a temper that would shame the devil. It isn't a quick temper--one can forgive that. It is a temper that remembers--remembers always, and that in a mild, ladylike sort of way destroys the one it fastens upon. Yet she is a dainty creature; fragile, fair, and pretty, even now. It is generally in these dainty, pretty, soulless creatures that the bitterest venom of all is to be found. "My sin, my sin?" demands she now gaily, smiling at Lady Rylton. She flings up her lovely arms, and fastens them behind her head. Her smile is full of mockery. "Philandering?" suggests Mrs. Bethune lightly. She leans a little forward, her soft curved chin coming in recognition. "I beg, Marian, you won't be vulgar," says Lady Rylton, fanning herself petulantly. "It's worse than being immoral." Her laughter rings through the room. The hot sun behind her is lighting the splendid masses of her red hair, and the disdainful gleam that dwells in her handsome eyes. A quick change passes over the latter's face. There is extreme hatred in it. It is gone, however, as soon as born, and remains for ever a secret to her companion. "As for that, I can read you easily enough," says Lady Rylton, with a superior air. "You are original, but--yes--I can read you." She could as easily have read a page of Sanscrit. "It is your originality I like. I have never, in spite of many things, been in the least sorry that I gave you a home on the death of your--er--rather disreputable husband." Mrs. Bethune looks sweetly at her. Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page |
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