Prisoners of Hope | Page 9

to repay, with interest, those little attentions shown him by his
courteous fellow voyager."
The planter looked puzzled; Sir Charles laughed.
"Our liking is mutual, I see," he said coolly. "I--but what is this,
Colonel Verney! Venus descending from Olympus?"
Out of the doorway fluttered a brilliant vision, all blue and white like
the great butterflies hovering over the clove pinks. Behind it appeared
the faded countenance of Mrs. Lettice, and a group of turbaned heads
peered, grinning, from out the cool darkness of the hall.

"Papa!" cried the vision. "I want to show you my new dress! Cousin
Charles, you are to tell me if it is all as it should be!"
Sir Charles bowed, with his hand upon his heart. "Alas, madam! I could
as soon play critic to the choir of angels. My eyes are dazzled."
"Stand out, child," said her father gazing at her with eyes of love and
pride, "and let us see your finery. D' ye know what the extravagant
minx has upon her back, Charles? Just five hogsheads of prime
tobacco!"
Mistress Lettice struck in: "Well, I'm sure, brother, 'tis much the
prettiest use to put tobacco to, to turn it into lace and brocade and
jewels,--much better, say I, than to be forever using it to accumulate
filthy slaves."
Patricia floated to the centre of the porch and stood sunning herself in a
stray shaft of light, like a very bird of paradise. The "tempestuous
petticoat," sky-blue and laced with silver, swelled proudly outwards,
the gleaming satin bodice slipped low over the snowy shoulders and the
heaving bosom, and the sleeves, trimmed with magnificent lace and
looped with pearls, showed the rounded arms to perfection. Around the
slender throat was wound a double row of pearls, and the golden
ringlets were partially confined by a snood of blue velvet. She unfurled
a wonderful fan, and lifted her skirts to show the tiny white and silver
shoes and the silken silver-clocked ankles. Her eyes shone like stars,
faint wild roses bloomed in her cheeks, charming half smiles chased
each other across her dainty mouth. Such a picture of radiant youth and
loveliness did she present that the Englishman's pulses quickened, and
he swore under his breath. "Surely," he muttered, "this is the most
beautiful woman in the world, and my lucky stars have sent me to this
No Man's Land to win her."
"How do you like me?" she cried gayly. "Is 't not worth the five
hogsheads?"
Her father drew her to him and kissed the smooth forehead.

"You look just as your mother did, child, the day that we were
betrothed. I could not give you higher praise than that, sweetheart."
"And does it really lack nothing, cousin?" she cried anxiously. "Is it in
truth such a dress as they wear at Court?"
"Not at Whitehall, madam, nor at Brussels, nor even at St. Germains
have I seen anything more point device than the dress,--nor as beautiful
as the wearer," he added in a lower voice and with a killing look.
The girl's face dimpled with pleasure and innocent, gratified vanity.
She swept him a magnificent courtesy, and he bent low over the slender
fingers she gave him. Suddenly he felt them stiffen in his clasp, and
looking up, saw a curious expression of fear and aversion pass like a
shadow across her face. She spoke abruptly. "That man! I did not see
him! What does he here?"
Sir Charles wheeled. The convict, forgotten by the two gentlemen, had
been left standing at the foot of the steps, and his sombre eyes were
now fixed upon the girl in a look so strange and intent as fully to
explain her perturbation. Through his parted lips the breath came
hurriedly, in his eyes was a mournful exaltation as of one who looks
from a desert into Paradise. He stood absorbed, unconscious of aught
save the splendid vision above him. For a moment she stared at him in
return, her eyes, held by his, slowly widening and the color quite gone
from her face. With a slow, involuntary movement one white arm rose,
and stiffened before her in a gesture of repulsion. The fan fell from her
hand upon the floor with a click of breaking tortoise shell. The sound
broke the spell, and with a strong shudder she turned her eyes away.
"Make him go," she said in a trembling voice. "He frightens me."
Sir Charles sprang forward with an oath. "Curse you, you dog! Take
your ill-omened eyes from the lady! Colonel Verney, do you not see
that the fellow is annoying your daughter?"
The planter had fallen into a reverie born of recollections of the Patricia
of his youth, long laid in her grave, but he roused himself at the words
of