LITMIR.BIZ

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bantering conversation. Philip, having dropped back a little, had an opportunity of carefully observing Mrs. Bellamy, an occupation not without interest, for she was certainly worthy of notice.

      About twenty years of age, and of medium height, her figure was so finely proportioned and so roomily made that it gave her the appearance of being taller than she really was. The head was set squarely on the shoulders, the hair was cut short, and clustered in ringlets over the low, broad brow; whilst the clearly carved Egyptian features and square chin gave the whole face a curious expression of resoluteness and power. The eyes were heavily-lidded and greyish-green in hue, with enormously large dark pupils that had a strange habit of expanding and contracting without apparent reason.

      Gazing at her, Philip was at a loss to know whether this woman so bizarrely beautiful fascinated or repelled him; indeed, neither then nor at any future time did he succeed in deciding the question. Whilst he was still contemplating, and wondering how Bellamy of all people in the world had managed to marry such a woman, and what previous acquaintance George had had with her, he saw the lady whisper something to his cousin, who at once turned and introduced him.

      “Philip,” he said, “let me introduce you to the most charming lady of my acquaintance, Mrs. Bellamy.”

      Philip bowed and expressed himself delighted, whilst the lady curtsied with a mixture of grace and dignity that became her infinitely well.

      “Your cousin has often spoken to me of you, Mr. Caresfoot, but he never told me——” here she hesitated, and broke off.

      “What did he never tell you, Mrs. Bellamy? Nothing to my disadvantage, I hope.”

      “On the contrary, if you wish to know,” she said, in that tone of flattering frankness which is sometimes so charming in a woman’s mouth, “he never told me that you were young and handsome. I fancied you forty at least.”

      “I should dearly like to tell you, Mrs. Bellamy, what my cousin George never told me; but I won’t, for fear I should make Bellamy jealous.”

      “Jealousy, Mr. Caresfoot, is a luxury that my husband is not allowed to indulge in; it is very well for lovers, but what is a compliment in a lover becomes an impertinence in a husband. But if I keep you here much longer, I shall be drawing the enmity of Miss Lee, and—yes, of Fraulein von Holtzhausen, too, on to my devoted head, and, as that is the only sort of jealousy I have any fear of, or indeed any respect for, being as it is the expression of the natural abhorrence of one woman for another, I had rather avoid it.”

      Philip followed the direction of her sleepy eyes, and saw that both Miss Lee and Hilda appeared to be put out. The former was talking absently to Mr. Bellamy, and glancing continually in the direction of that gentleman’s wife. The latter, too, whilst appearing to listen to some compliment from George, was gazing at Mrs. Bellamy with a curious look of dislike and apprehension in her face.

      “You see what I mean; Fraulein von Holtzhausen actually looks as though she were afraid of me. Can you fancy any one being afraid of me, except my husband, of course?—for as you know, when a woman is talking of men, her husband is always excepted. Come, we must be going; but, Mr. Caresfoot, bend a little nearer; if you will accept it from such a stranger, I want to give you a bit of advice—make your choice pretty soon, or you will lose them both.”

      “What do you mean—how do you know——”

      “I mean nothing at all, or just as much as you like, and for the rest I use my eyes. Come, let us join the others.”

      A few minutes later Hilda put down her work, and, declaring that she felt hot, threw open the French window and went out into the garden, whither, on some pretext or other, Philip followed her.

      “What a lovely woman that is,” said Mrs. Bellamy, with enthusiasm, to Miss Lee, as soon as Philip was out of earshot. “Her tout ensemble positively kills one. I feel plain and dowdy as a milkmaid alongside of a Court-beauty when I am in the room with her. Don’t you, Miss Lee?”

      “Oh, I don’t know, I never thought about it, but of course she is lovely and I’m plain, so there is no possibility of comparison between us.”

      “Well, I think you rate yourself rather low, if you will allow me to say so; but most women would but ‘poorly satisfy the sight’ of a man when she was present. I know that I should not care to trust my admirer (if I had one), however devoted he might be, for a single day in her company; would you?”

      “I really don’t know; what do you mean?”

      “Mean, Miss Lee, why I mean nothing at all; what should I mean, except that beauty is a magnet which attracts all men; it serves them for a standard of morality and a test of right and wrong. Men are different from women. If a man is faithful to one of us, it is only because no other woman of sufficient charm has become between him and us. You can never trust a man.”

      “What dreadful ideas you have.”

      “Do you think so? I hope not. I only speak what I have observed. Take the case of Fraulein von Holtzhausen, for instance. Did you not notice that whilst she was in the room the eyes of the three gentlemen were all fixed upon her, and as soon as she leaves it one of them follows her, as the others would have done had they not been forestalled? One cannot blame them; they are simply following a natural law. Any other man would do the same where such a charming person is concerned.”

      “I certainly did not notice it; indeed, to speak the truth, I thought that they were more occupied with you——”

      “With me! why, my dear Miss Lee, I don’t set up for being good- looking. What a strange idea. But I dare say you are right, it is only one of my theories based upon my own casual observations, and, after all, men are not a very interesting subject, are they? Let’s talk of something more exciting—dresses, for instance.”

      But poor Maria was too uncomfortable and disturbed to talk of anything else, so she collapsed into silence, and shortly after Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy and George made their adieux.

      Meanwhile Philip and Hilda had been walking leisurely down the shrubberies adjoining the house.

      “Why have you come out?” she asked in German, a language he understood well.

      “To walk with you. Why do you speak to me in German?”

      “Because it is my pleasure to do so, and I never asked you to walk with me. You are wanted in the drawing-room, you had better go back.”

      “No, I won’t go, Hilda; that is, not until you have promised me something.”

      “Do not call me Hilda, if you please. I am the Fraulein von Holtzhausen. What is it you want me to promise?”

      “I want you to meet me this evening at nine o’clock in the summer- house.”

      “I think, Mr. Caresfoot, that you are forgetting a little what is due to me, to yourself, and—to Miss Lee?”

      “What do you mean by due to Miss Lee?”

      “Simply that she is in love with you, and that you have encouraged her in her affection; you need not contradict me, she tells me all about it.”

      “Nonsense, Hilda; if you will meet me to-night, I will explain everything; there is no need for you to be jealous.”

      She swept round upon him, tossing her head, and stamping her dainty foot upon the gravel.

      “Mr. Caresfoot,” she said, “once and for all I am not jealous, and I will not meet you; I have too much respect for myself, and too little for you,” and she was gone.

      Philip’s face, as he stood looking after her, was not pleasant to see; it was very hard and angry.

      “Jealous, is she? I will give her something to be jealous for, the proud minx;” and in his vexation he knocked off the head of a carnation with his stick.

      “Philip, what are you doing? Those are my

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