Beyond The Rocks | Page 8

How revolting, how infamous! I suppose that old
schemer, her father, sold her to him. Her eyes remind one of forgotten
fairy tales of angels. Can anything be so sweet as that little nose and
those baby-red lips. She has a soul, too, peeping out of the blue when
she looks up at one. She reminds me of Praxiteles' Psyche when she
looks down. Why did I not meet her long ago? I believe I ought not to
stay now--something tells me I shall fall deeply into this. And what a
voice!--as gentle and caressing as a tender dove. A man would give his
soul for such a woman. As guileless as an infant saint, too--and
sensitive and human and understanding. I wish to God I had the
strength of mind to get up and go this minute--but I haven't--it is fate."
"Oh, how naughty of papa," said Theodora, "to be so late! Are you very
hungry, Josiah? Shall we begin without them?"
But at that moment, with rustling silks and delicate perfume, the widow
and Captain Fitzgerald came in at the door and joined the party.
"I am just too sorry," the lady said, gayly. "It is all Captain Fitzgerald's
fault--he would try to restrain me from buying what I wanted, and so it
made me obstinate and I had to stay right there and order half the
shop."
"How I understand you!" sympathized Lord Bracondale. "I know just

that feeling of wanting forbidden fruit. It makes the zest of life."
He had foreseen the disposition of the party, and by sitting in the
outside corner seat at the end knew he would have Theodora almost
_en tête-à-tête_, once they were all seated along the velvet sofa beyond
Josiah Brown.
"What do you do with yourself all the time here?" he asked, lowering
his voice to that deep note which only carries to the ear it is intended
for. "May one ever see you again except at a chance meal like this?"
"I don't know," said Theodora. "I walk up and down in the side allées
of the Bois in the morning with my husband, and when he has had his
sleep, after déjeuner, we drive nearly all the afternoon, and we have tea,
at the Pré Catalan and drive again until about seven, and then we come
in and dine, and I go to bed very early. Josiah is not strong enough yet
for late hours or theatres."
"It sounds supernaturally gay for Paris!" said Lord Bracondale; and
then he felt a brute when he saw the cloud in the blue eyes.
"No, it is not gay," she said, simply. "But the flowers are beautiful, and
the green trees and the chestnut blossoms and the fine air here, and
there is a little stream among the trees which laughs to itself as it runs,
and all these things say something to me."
He felt rebuked--rebuked and interested.
"I would like to see them all with you," he said.
That was one of his charms--directness. He did not insinuate often; he
stated facts.
"You would find it all much too monotonous," she answered. "You
would tire of them after the first time. And you could if you liked, too,
because I suppose you are free, being a man, and can choose your own
life," and she sighed unconsciously.

And there came to Hector Bracondale the picture of her life--sacrificed,
no doubt, to others' needs. He seemed to see the long years tied to
Josiah Brown, the cramping of her soul, the dreary desolation of it.
Then a tenderness came over him, a chivalrous tenderness unfelt by
him towards women now for many a long day.
"I wonder if I can choose my life," he said, and he looked into her eyes.
"Why can you not?" She hesitated. "And may I ask you, too, what you
do with yourself here?"
He evaded the question; he suddenly realized that his days were not
more amusing than hers, although they were filled up with racing and
varied employments--while the thought of his nights sickened him.
"I think I am going to make an immense change and learn to take
pleasure in the running brooks," he said. "Will you help me?"
"I know so little, and you know so much," and her sweet eyes became
soft and dreamy. "I could not help you in any way, I fear."
"Yes, you could--you could teach me to see all things with fresh eyes.
You could open the door into a new world."
"Do you know," she said, irrelevantly, "Sarah--my eldest sister--Sarah
told me it was unwise ever to talk to strangers except in the
abstract--and here are you and I conversing about our own interests and
feelings--are not we foolish!" She laughed a little nervously.
"No, we