The Haunted Chamber | Page 7

says sweetly.
"I never flatter," he responds, with telling emphasis. "But, I can see you

are not angry, and so I am emboldened to say plainly, I would gladly
see you my cousin's wife. Is the idea not altogether abhorrent to you?"
"No. Oh, no!"
"It is perhaps--pardon me if I go too far--even agreeable to you?"
"Mr. Dynecourt," says Mrs. Talbot, suddenly glancing at him and
laying her jeweled fingers lightly on his arm, "I will confess to you that
I am tired of being alone--dependent on myself, as it were--thrown on
my own judgment for the answering of every question that arises. I
would gladly acknowledge a superior head. I would have some one to
help me now and then with a word of advice; in short, I would have a
husband. And,"--here she lays her fan against her lips and glances
archly at him--"I confess too that I like Sir Adrian as--well--as well as
any man I know."
"He is a very fortunate man"--gravely. "I would he knew his
happiness."
"Not for worlds," says Mrs. Talbot, with well-feigned alarm. "You
would not even hint to him such a thing as--as--" She stops, confused.
"I shall hint nothing--do nothing, except what you wish. Ah, Mrs.
Talbot"--with a heavy sigh--"you are supremely happy! I envy you!
With your fascinations and"--insinuatingly--"a word in season from me,
I see no reason why you should not claim as your own the man whom
you--well, let us say, like; while I--"
"If I can befriend you in any way," interrupts Dora quickly, "command
me."
She is indeed quite dazzled by the picture he has painted before her
eyes. Can it be--is it--possible, that Sir Adrian may some day be hers?
Apart from his wealth, she regards him with very tender feelings, and
of late she has been rendered at times absolutely miserable by the
thought that he has fallen a victim to the charms of Florence.

Now if, by means of this man, her rival can be kept out of Adrian's way,
all may yet be well, and her host may be brought to her feet before her
visit comes to an end.
Of Arthur Dynecourt's infatuation for Florence she is fully aware, and
is right in deeming that part of his admiration for the beautiful girl has
grown out of his knowledge of her money-bags. Still, she argues to
herself, his love is true and faithful, despite his knowledge of her dot,
and he will in all probability make her as good a husband as she is
likely to find.
"May I command you?" asks Arthur, in his softest tones. "You know
my secret, I believe. Ever since that last meeting at Brighton, when my
heart overcame me and made me show my sentiments openly and in
your presence, you have been aware of the hopeless passion that is
consuming me. I may be mad, but I still think that, with opportunities
and time, I might make myself at least tolerated by Miss Delmaine.
Will you help me in this matter? Will you give me the chance of
pleading my cause with her alone? By so doing"--with a meaning
smile--"you will also give my cousin the happy chance of seeing you
alone."
Dora only too well understands his insinuation. Latterly Sir Adrian and
Florence have been almost inseparable. To now meet with one whose
interest it is to keep them asunder is very pleasant to her.
"I will help you," she says in a low tone.
"Then try to induce Miss Delmaine to give me a private rehearsal
to-morrow in the north gallery," he whispers hurriedly, seeing Captain
Ringwood and Miss Villiers approaching. "Hush! Not another word! I
rely upon you. Above all things, remember that what has occurred is
only between you and me. It is our little plot," he says, with a curious
smile that somehow strikes a chill to Mrs. Talbot's heart.
She is faithful to her word nevertheless, and late that night, when all
have gone to their rooms, she puts on her dressing-gown, dismisses her
maid, and crossing the corridor, taps lightly at the door of Florence's

apartment.
Hearing some one cry "Come in," she opens the door, and, having
fastened it again, goes over to where Florence is sitting while her maid
is brushing her long soft hair that reaches almost to the ground as she
sits.
"Let me brush your hair to-night, Flo," she says gayly. "Let me be your
maid for once. Remember how I used to do it for you sometimes when
we were in Switzerland last year."
"Very well--you may," acquiesces Florence, laughing. "Good-night,
Parkins. Mrs. Talbot has won you your release."
Parkins having gladly withdrawn, Dora takes up the ivory-handled
brush and gently begins to brush her cousin's hair.
After some preliminary conversation leading