Miss Desmond

“ I felt the full force of every word he advanced in favor of cultivating the society of the amiable—the beautiful. My feelings, naturally ardent, were wrought to the highest pitch of excitement, and I fervently hoped my unfortunate temperament would not forever exclude me from the charms he so eloquently eulogised. Mr. Desmond, unlike the generality of my acquaintances, did not ridicule me. ”

“ If my Lord Desmond wanted his wife, he should not have mixed himself up with those wicked conspiracies against our good King. 'Tis his own doing if he never sees my face again; and if he prefers my dowry to me, he is most welcome to it, as far as I am concerned." But as I ran up-stairs to inspect the preparations for my journey to London, I found myself wondering whether the French ladies were very beautiful—fairer than that face I caught a glimpse of as I passed a mirror in the withdrawing-room—and whether, if Lord Desmond was to see me—— But here I stopped, with a laugh at my own vanity ”

“ Desmond studied the man who was giving him this unsolicited information, and he concluded that the nice-looking man was sharp number two; he was up to this sort of business and perceived the whole game.
"Yes, he appears like a good, honest fellow," said Desmond.
"Honest? why, you could trust him with all you had in the world."
"Yes, he looks that."
"He is one of the kindest-hearted fellows in the world. I tell you if you get into trouble he is the man to aid you. He is the best pistol shot and rifle shot in the land. Why, that fellow has fought off a whole tribe of Indians. ”

“ There was a significant pause.
“And I do so hate painting my face!” remarked Desmond irrelevantly.
The Chief laughed. “I knew I could count on you, Okewood. Very little disguise will be necessary if you will consent to sacrifice your moustache. All I ask you to do is to dine at the Hexagon at eight o’clock to-morrow evening in the guise of Mr. Murchison of Munich. You can leave the rest to me. And if, in the course of the evening, you should recognize that brother of yours—well, don’t! Now as to this question of your make-up . . .” ”

“ Blest with vivacity, courage, and an ardent zest for Frontier soldiering, Desmond had rarely found life other than very good; but he had only proven the full measure of its goodness since his marriage with Honor Meredith. And the mouths brought increasing reliance on her comradeship; increasing insight into the depths and delicacies of a passion that was almost genius. His need of her was deeper now than it had been two years ago, when he had believed himself at the summit of desire. For a great love is like a great mountain-range. Each height scaled reveals farther heights beyond. ”

“ Sympathy, he supposed, about Desmond.
Well, he was grateful; and for the first time his heart reached out for pity—almost humbled itself—accepted the human lot. If Desmond were killed, he would never choose to go on living. Did she know that? Was it because she guessed at the feelings he had always done his best to hide that she had been so good to him that evening?
What as to that love-story of hers—her family?—her brother in Mesopotamia? He began to feel a hundred curiosities about her, and a strong wish to make life easy for her, as she had been making it easy for him. ”

“ I am sure Mother will like me to visit Miss Desmond again. It seems a long time to look forward to, but time really passes very quickly. Sometimes the days are not long enough for all I want to do. I am to go to school when we live in London. All the beautiful things I have longed for are coming to me. Carol, I do wish every little girl and every little boy knew how to ask Divine Love for what they want. When I am older that is the work I want to do,--to teach other children as Miss Desmond taught me."
"And I, too, Eloise. ”

“ It was about this time that Lady Desmond gave birth to the unfortunate child whose dismal fate it was to know himself the last and weakest of his race, and to die young without ever having known youth. ”

“ There is a bitter smile on Flora Desmond’s face, for she knows what ruin would mean.
“Are you looking Corrie Glen over, Lady Flora?” inquires a voice at her elbow. She has no need to turn round to discover the speaker, for she knows the voice full well. It is that of Hector D’Estrange.
He has heard the conversation between Sir Reginald Desmond and his wife, and as the former elbows his way through the crowd, he has pushed forward and sidled into his place by her side.
“Yes, Mr. D’Estrange, I am,” she answers just a shade wearily. “Like every one else, I am looking at the crack. ”

“ It was all there in a bag—raw gold, pure gold, the food of joy. At the weight of it in his rough palm, Desmond chattered and chuckled with delight. He had sat there talking and laughing for hours, while the glow of the stove grew darker and the cold crept in. Little blots of snow from the snow-shoes, first melting, had turned again to dark ice on the floor; the red light clung to them until each little circle seemed to be one of blood. Outside the world trembled under the shafts of the bitter stars; but Desmond, with the very fuel of life in his hand, was warm. ”

“ His smile had a hint of scorn.
"Goodness knows! There is nothing to prevent you——"
"Yes—there is!" she spoke hurriedly, with downcast eyes. "Honor would never take me. She thinks it's dreadful that I should go. I never saw her so angry before. She—she said—terrible things——"
"Good God! What do—you—mean?"
Desmond spoke slowly. Anger and amazement sounded in his deep voice; and his wife saw what she had done.
"Theo!—Theo!" she cried, clasping her hands, and wringing them in distraction at her own foolishness, "I never meant to say that. ”

“ Desmond saw all this, because at night the shade was discarded, though the rakish bandage still eclipsed his right eye. He lay lapped in a pleasant sense of the unreality of outward things, and his wife—dimly seen and motionless—had the air of a dream-figure in a dream.
Suddenly she leaned down, and caressed his damp hair with a familiar lightness of touch.
"I heard you move, darling," she whispered. "I've been sitting such a long, long while alone; and I badly wanted you to wake up."
"Such a brave Ladybird!" he said, imprisoning her fingers. "You seem to be on duty all the time. ”

“ Desmond, he at last quitted the table, and followed his host toward the study, mentally declaring to himself that, should the opportunity again offer, Miss Desmond [55] should discover him to be not so lacking in brilliancy as she must have supposed from their first interview. Nor was it until he found himself in the study, face to face with the father, the strong box of treasure upon the table between them, that he was able to fetch himself entirely back to the seriousness and complexity of the business which rested upon him. ”

“ Desmond, who was beautiful herself, and liked to gather beautiful things around her.
It is said that every family has its skeleton. Mrs. Markham did not know that the skeleton in her friend's closet was the lurking fiend of jealousy. Mrs. Desmond was a charming lady, but she secretly disliked every pretty woman she knew.
Little Golden went on through the dressing-room to the bed-chamber, which was a perfect bower of elegance and repose, and timidly opened the nursery door, for the description of little Ruby Desmond had rather intimidated her. ”

“ There was more of bewilderment than of reproach in the words, and Desmond, turning his head, saw the white marks made by his own fingers upon the hand that hung at her side.
"Done?" he echoed, all constraint and coldness gone from his voice. "You have simply proved yourself, for the hundredth time—the staunchest, most long-suffering woman on God's earth. Will you forgive me, Honor? Will you wipe out what I said—and did just now? I am not quite—myself to-day; if one dare proffer an excuse. Mackay is right, we can't do without you—Evelyn least of any. ”

“ Then, because tears threatened, she leaned down till her forehead rested against his shoulder, and furtively dried her lashes with the back of her hand. When a strong woman lays aside her strength, and relies on the inherent power of her womanhood, no man on earth is a match for her. Desmond could only surrender at discretion, and take her altogether to himself. ”

“ She had a keen sense of humor and entertained Desmond vastly by her anecdotes of her stage career, some not a little risqué, but narrated with the greatest bonhomie.
But, strongly attracted as he was to the girl, Desmond did not let himself lose sight of his ultimate object. He let her run on as gaily as she might but steadily, relentlessly he swung the conversation round to her last engagement at the Palaceum. He wanted to see if she would make any reference to the murder at Seven Kings. If he could only bring in old Mackwayte’s name, he knew that the dancer must allude to the tragedy. ”

“ Also he was aware that the girl had been present, though in a filmy dress that somehow transformed her from his companion of the lagoon into an ethereal being, infinitely remote. His host was Mr. Desmond's only doubt. His main impressions of the lethargic gentleman at the head of the table were his penetrating eyes and an uncanny ability to draw others without saying anything himself. However, Mr. Desmond retraced his steps down the croton avenue with the air of one who has left a good impression in a desirable quarter. ”

“ For with little children, bless them! trouble's like water on a duck's back; they're crying broken-hearted one minute, and laughing as if they'd burst themselves the next.
Miss Desmond was that nice! She was a lady, she was. She had a way about her which seemed to take you right out of yourself; and made you feel at peace. But with all her gentle, pleasant manner I could see that she herself was just weighed down with trouble. I suspected that there was something between that Mr. Howarth and her ”

“ The jealous shame that he had a rival—another who might have won her when he had failed—the lurker whom Desmond and himself had seen—was all forgotten now; and though her bloom was gone, her complexion had become waxen, her beautiful hands almost transparent, her eyes unnaturally large and bright, he seemed to see in her only the same Ida whom he had loved in the first flush of her beauty ere it budded, and whom he had wooed and won in happier and unclouded times, in the same old English home where they were all gathered together. ”

“ And that we comprehend each other without collision? I love him, as a mature woman may love,—once, Ben, only once; the fire-tipped arrows rarely pierce soul and sense, blood and brain."
He made a gesture, expressive of contempt.
"Men are different; he is different."
"You have already spoken for me, and, I suppose, you will for him."
"I venture to. Desmond is a violent, tyrannical, sensual man; his perceptions are his pulses. That he is handsome, clever, resolute, and sings well, I can admit; but no more."
"We will not bandy his merits or his demerits between us. Let us observe him. ”

“ Of course, he pities me—everyone does; everyone is kind to me—but, apart from that, do you really, really think I am his favorite—in spite of my blindness?”
Mrs. Desmond rose, cross the room, put her hand upon the girl’s shoulder.
“I don’t think—I know,” she returned. “He thinks more of you than he thinks of anyone in the wide, wide world! That’s something to be proud of, Nora.” ”

“ Desmond had long since passed beyond the border-line of definite thought; while Evelyn's mind rapidly reverted to the more congenial atmosphere of things terrestrial. An unknown force was urging her to speak openly to her husband, to rid herself of the shadow that had begun to tarnish the bright surface of life. It would be easier to speak in dusk than in bald daylight—easier also before the bloom of reunion had been rubbed off by the prosaic trivialities of life. ”

“ The clatter of hoofs, followed by Desmond's voice in the verandah, snapped the thread of her thought, and roused Evelyn from the contemplation of her roses.
"Theo is back early!" she exclaimed: and on the words he entered the room, elation in every line of him, an unusual light in his eyes.
"What has happened to make you look like that?" she asked. "Somebody left you a fortune?"
Desmond laughed, with a peculiar ring of enjoyment.
"No fear! Fortunes don't grow hereabouts! But we've had stirring news this morning. ”

“ He cast a swift glance at the box opposite.
The girl laughed. “You speak French so well that I should never have taken you for an Englishman,” she said.
“And, apart from your accent, I was convinced from your appearance that you were a Parisian,” retorted Desmond gallantly. He kept back in the shadow as much as possible.
Few women are proof against compliments on their good taste. The girl flushed with appreciation.
“Are you from London?” she asked.
Desmond looked at her quickly. An incredible suspicion had dawned upon him. What if Bliss’s messenger were a woman? ”

“ But Desmond was thinking of both man and wife as he had seen them greet one another that morning; and an atmosphere of pseudo-hilarity jarred his nerves like a discord in music. For the man possessed that mingling of fortitude and delicacy of feeling, which stands revealed in the lives of so many famous fighters, and may well be termed the hall-mark of heroism.
In due time they came upon the two women, still sitting—drenched and patient—on their bank of soaked fir-needles; and Desmond hurried forward to get in a word or two with Quita unobserved. ”

“ But in the midst of an impassioned flow of words, his deep voice faltered; and squaring his shoulders, he saluted Desmond with a gleam of fire in his eyes.
"There be more things in the heart of a man, Hazúr, than the tongue can be brought to utter. But, of a truth, the Miss Sahib hath done good service for the Border this day."
Desmond flung a smiling glance at Honor.
"There's fame for you!" he said, with a lightness that was mere foam and spray from great deeps. ”