Three Weeks | Page 2

to make the presentment of these two human beings

vivid and clear.
The verdict I must leave to the Public, but now, at all events, you know,
kind Reader, that to me, the "Imperatorskoye" appears a noble woman,
because she was absolutely faithful to the man she had selected as her
mate, through the one motive which makes a union moral in
ethics--Love.--ELINOR GLYN.

THREE WEEKS
CHAPTER I
Now this is an episode in a young man's life, and has no real beginning
or ending. And you who are old and have forgotten the passions of
youth may condemn it. But there are others who are neither old nor
young who, perhaps, will understand and find some interest in the
study of a strange woman who made the illumination of a brief space.
Paul Verdayne was young and fresh and foolish when his episode
began. He believed in himself--he believed in his mother, and in a
number of other worthy things. Life was full of certainties for him. He
was certain he liked hunting better than anything else in the world--for
instance. He was certain he knew his own mind, and therefore perfectly
certain his passion for Isabella Waring would last for ever! Ready to
swear eternal devotion with that delightful inconsequence of youth in
its unreason, thinking to control an emotion as Canute's flatterers would
have had him do the waves.
And the Creator of waves--and emotions--no doubt smiled to
Himself--if He is not tired by now of smiling at the follies of the moles
called human beings, who for the most part inhabit His earth!
Paul was young, as I said, and fair and strong. He had been in the
eleven at Eton and left Oxford with a record for all that should turn a
beautiful Englishman into a perfect athlete. Books had not worried him
much! The fit of a hunting-coat, the pace of a horse, were things of

more importance, but he scraped through his "Smalls" and his "Mods,"
and was considered by his friends to be anything but a fool. As for his
mother--the Lady Henrietta Verdayne--she thought him a god among
men!
Paul went to London like others of his time, and attended the theatres,
where perfectly virtuous young ladies display nightly their innocent
charms in hilarious choruses, arrayed in the latest modes. He supped,
too, with these houris--and felt himself a man of the world.
He had stayed about in country houses for perhaps a year, and had
danced through the whole of a season with all the prettiest débutantes.
And one or two of the young married women of forty had already
marked him out for their prey.
By all this you can see just the kind of creature Paul was. There are
hundreds of others like him, and perhaps they, too, have the latent
qualities which he developed during his episode--only they remain as
he was in the beginning--sound asleep.
That fall out hunting in March, and being laid up with a sprained ankle
and a broken collar-bone, proved the commencement of the Isabella
Waring affair.
She was the parson's daughter--and is still for the matter of that!--and
often in those days between her games of golf and hockey, or a good
run on her feet with the hounds, she came up to Verdayne Place to
write Lady Henrietta's letters for her. Isabella was most amiable and
delighted to make herself useful.
And if her hands were big and red, she wrote clearly and well. The
Lady Henrietta, who herself was of the delicate Later Victorian
Dresden China type, could not imagine a state of things which
contained the fact that her god-like son might stoop to this daughter of
the earthy earth!
Yet so it fell about. Isabella read aloud the sporting papers to
him--Isabella played piquet with him in the dull late afternoons of his

convalescence--Isabella herself washed his dog Pike--that king of
rough terriers! And one terrible day Paul unfortunately kissed the large
pink lips of Isabella as his mother entered the room.
I will draw a veil over this part of his life.
The Lady Henrietta, being a great lady, chanced to behave as such on
the occasion referred to--but she was also a woman, and not a
particularly clever one. Thus Paul was soon irritated by opposition into
thinking himself seriously in love with this daughter of the middle
classes, so far beneath his noble station.
"Let the boy have his fling," said Sir Charles Verdayne, who was a
coarse person. "Damn it all! a man is not obliged to marry every
woman he kisses!"
"A gentlemen does not deliberately kiss an unmarried girl unless he
intends to make her his wife!" retorted Lady Henrietta. "I fear the
worst!"
Sir Charles snorted and chuckled, two unpleasant and annoying