Anthony Hope

“ Oh, I say, Miss Bellairs, isn’t it all damnable? I beg your pardon.”
Dora was tracing little figures on the gravel with her parasol.
“Now what would you do?” cried Charlie. “She loves me, I know she does, and she’s going to marry this other fellow because she promised him first. I don’t suppose she knew what love was then.”
“Oh, I’m sure she didn’t,” exclaimed Dora earnestly.
“You can’t blame her, you know. And it’s absurd to—to—to—not to—well, to marry a fellow you don’t care for when you care for another fellow, you know!” ”

“ And that is the reason why you will find (if you travel there, as I trust you may, for nowhere are the ladies fairer or the men so gallant) more windows in the Duchy of Deodonato than anywhere in the wide world besides. For the more windows, the wider the view; and the wider the view, the more pretty damsels do you see; and the more pretty damsels you see, the more jocund a thing is life-and that is what the men of the Duchy love—and not least Duke Deodonato, whom, with his bride Dulcissima, may Heaven long preserve! ”

“ Dora entered the hotel gates and sank into a chair in the court-yard.
“Well? she asked helplessly; but Charlie had no suggestion to offer.
“How could they?” she broke out indignantly. “How could they break off their marriage at the last moment like that? They—they were as good as married. It’s really hardly—people should know their own minds.”
She caught sight of a rueful smile on Charlie’s face.
“Oh, I know, but it’s different,” she added impatiently. “One expects it of you, but I didn’t expect it of John Ashforth.” ”

“ As she spoke Chillington came out. Even in the dim light I saw a frown on his face.
“I say, Wynne,” said he, “where’s Miss Myles?”
“She’s gone to bed,” I answered. “She told me to wish you good-night for her, Miss Liston. No message for you, Chillington.”
Miss Liston’s eyes were on him. He took no notice of her; he stood frowning for an instant, then, with some muttered ejaculation, he strode back into the house. We hoard his heavy tread across the drawing-room; we heard the door slammed behind him, and I found myself looking on Miss Liston’s altered face. ”

“ At this moment Arthur Laing entered the room. His brow was clouded. He had searched his purse, his cigar-case, the lining of his hat—in fact every depository where a careful man would be likely to bestow documents whose existence he wished to remember; as no careful man would put such things in the pocket of his ‘blazer’, he had not searched there; thus the telegrams had not appeared, and the culprit was looking forward, with some alarm, to the reception which would await him when he ‘turned up’ to lunch with his friends, as he had promised to do. ”

“ The man finds out after the marriage; the shallow girl dies un regretted (she turns out as badly as possible) ; the real love comes, and all ends joyfully. It is simple story, prettily told in its little way, and the scene of the reunion is written with genuine feeling—nay, with a touch of real passion. But then Sir Gilbert Chillington never meets Miss Liston now. And Lady Chillington not only behaves with her customary propriety, but is in the enjoyment of most excellent health and spirits.
True art demands an adaptation, not a copy, of life. ”

“ And all, save Fusbius, cried “Amen.” But Fusbius cried, “Your Highness, it is demonstrated beyond cavil, ay, to the satisfaction of your Highness—”
“This is very tedious,” said Deodonato. “Let him speak no more.”
And again he drew near to Dulcissima, and there, before them all, he fell on his knee. And a murmur ran through the hall.
“Madam,” said Deodonato, “if you love me, wed me. And, if you love me not, depart in peace and in honor; and I, Deodonato, will live my life alone.”
Then the damsel trembled, and barely did Deodonato catch her words:
“There are many men here,” said she. ”

“ I do not consider that Miss Bellairs quite appreciates the effort I have made.”
Mary sighed.
“We mustn’t expect too much of them, must we?” she asked.
“I suppose not,” John conceded; but he still frowned.
When we consider how simple the elements of perfect happiness appear to be, regarded in the abstract, it becomes surprising to think how difficult it is to attain them in the concrete. A kind magician may grant us all we ask, may transport us whither we would go, dower us with all we lack, bring to us one desired companion after another, but something is wrong. ”

“ Blunt, who do you think was in the summer-house when Mr. Merceron went there?”
“My dear, are you ill? You jump about so from subject to subject.”
“It’s all one subject, Mrs. Blunt. There was a girl there.”
“Well, my dear, and if there was? Boys will be boys; and I’m sure there was no harm.”
“No harm! Oh!”
“Agatha, are you crazy?” demanded Mrs. Blunt, with an access of sternness.
“Could I fancy,” pursued Agatha, in despairing playfulness mimicking Uncle Van’s manner, “how Miss Bushell looked, and how Victor looked, and how everybody looked? Could I fancy it? Why, I was there!” ”

“ He must be on his guard against mere selfishness or mere vanity masquerading in the garb of a genuine passion.
As these thoughts occurred to Charlie Ellerton he felt that he was at a crisis of his life. He also felt glad that he had still a quiet week at Cannes in which to revolve these considerations in his mind. Above all, he must do nothing hastily.
Dora came out, a book in her hand. Her soft white frock fluttered in the breeze, and she pushed back a loose lock of dark hair that caressed her check.
“A dashed nice girl, upon my honor,” said Sir Roger Deane. ”

“ But, the window passed, both sighed deeply and returned to lingering those hidden missives.
“Poor little girl! I must keep it up,” said John.
“Dear good John! He must never know,” thought Mary.
And the two fell to thinking just what was remarked a few lines back, namely, that the human heart is very wicked; they were shocked at themselves; the young often are.
Miss Bussey awoke, sat up, evicted the cat, and found her spectacles. ”

“ Indeed, from that side of the Pool there was no choice, unless one clambered round by the muddy bank.
“We must make haste,” said Willie. “Father’ll want his tea.”
If they made haste they would be close on his heels. Charlie shrank back behind a willow and let them go by; then, quick as thought, rushed to his canoe and paddled across—up the steps and into the temple he rushed. She wasn’t there! Fate is too hard for the best of us sometimes. Charlie sat down and, stretching out his legs, stared gloomily at his toes. ”

“ Before the impressive invocation of her grandfather’s one religion, Agatha’s opposition collapsed.
“I suppose he must be told,” she admitted mournfully. “I expect he’ll never speak to me again, and I’m sure Mr. Merceron won’t;” and she sat on the footstool, the picture of dejection.
Lord Thrapston was moved to enunciate a solemn truth.
“Aggy,” said he, shaking his finger at her, “in this world you can’t have your fun for nothing.” But then he spoilt it by adding regretfully, “More’s the pity!” and off he hobbled to the club, intent on finding Calder Wentworth. ”

“ Sir Roger had chartered a cab and gone for a drive on the boulevards.
“And we shall really be in Paris to-morrow night?” said Dora. “And in England, I hope, six-and-thirty hours afterwards. I want papa to cross the next evening. Mr. Ellerton, I believe we shall be in time.”
Charlie said nothing. He seemed to be engrossed by the magnificent view before him.
“Well? Have you nothing to say?” she asked.
“It’s a sin to rush through a place like this,” he observed. “We ought to stay a week. There’s no end to see. It’s an education!” ”

“ Lady Merceron wished she had Uncle Van by her side to explain these puzzling inconsistencies. However, there was a bright side to the affair: the presence of the young men was a godsend to poor Millie, who, by reason of the depressed state of agriculture, had been obliged this year to go without her usual six weeks of London in the season.
“And she never grumbles about it,” said Lady Merceron admiringly. “She looks after her district, and takes a ride, and plays tennis, when she can get a game, poor girl, and is always cheerful and happy. She’d be a treasure of a wife to any man.” ”

“ He was now forty-four, a widower, well off by his marriage, and a Member of Parliament. Naturally, Lady Merceron relied much, on his advice, especially in what concerned her son; she was hazy about the characters and needs of young men, not knowing how they should be treated or what appealed to them. Amid her haziness, one fact only stood out clear. To deal with a young man, you wanted a man of the world. In this capacity Mr. Vansittart had now been sent for to the Court, the object of his visit being nothing less than the arrangement and satisfactory settlement of Charlie’s future. ”

“ Suddenly Dora Bellairs rushed up to them.
“Have you seen Mr. Ellerton?” she cried. “Where is he?”
“In the smoking-room,” answered Sir Roger. “Do you want him?”
“Would you mind? I can’t go in there: it’s full of men.”
“After all we must be somewhere,” pleaded Sir Roger as he went on his errand.
“Dolly,” said the General, “I’ve just made a charming arrangement. Lady Deane and Sir Roger start for Paris to-day week, and we’re going with them. You said you’d like another week here.”
“It’s charming our being able to go together, isn’t it?” said Lady Deane. ”

“ From heiresses in reason a gentleman need neither shrink nor let himself be driven; but when it comes to something like twenty thousand a year—the reported amount of Trix’s dot—he distrusts his own motives almost as much as the lady’s relatives distrust them for him. We all felt this—Stanton, Rippleby, and I; and, although I will not swear that we spoke no tender words and gave no meaning glances, yet we reduced such concessions to natural weakness to a minimum, not only when Lady Queenborough was by, but at all times. ”

“ I think, however, that Lady Queenborough must have spoken again, for when Jack did come to tennis, Trix treated him with the most freezing civility and a hardly disguised disdain, and devoted herself to Lord Newhaven with as much assiduity as her mother could wish. We men, over our pipes, expressed the opinion that Jack Ives’s little hour of sunshine was passed, and that nothing was left to us but to look on at the prosperous uneventful course of Lord Newhaven’s wooing. ”