Yvonne

“ I see Yvonne’s eyes, which had swiftly sought my face as the words were spoken, change and warm to mine for the least fraction of a second. I see all this now, and her slim form unspeakably graceful against the dark wainscoting of the chimney side. Then it all seemed to swim, and I knew that it was with great effort of will I steadied myself; and at last I perceived that Yvonne was holding both Anderson and her father in rapt attention by a sort of radiance of light speech and dainty gesture. ”

“ I've never said a word to you, Ingersoll, and mighty little to your daughter; but I love Yvonne, and if she will marry me, our wedding day will be the proudest day of my life. I'm not a poor man. I've a heap more money than ever I've owned up to, because I like the life here, and I like you, and I worship the ground Yvonne walks on, and I was afraid that if you knew I was fairly well fixed in a financial sense you'd regard me as a poseur, and cut me out. ”

“ Already my hand was thrust into the bosom of my doublet, and my fingers were about to drag forth that little shred of green velvet that I had found in the coppice on the day of her abduction, and that I had kept ever since as one keeps the relic of a departed saint. Another moment and I should have poured out the story of the mad, hopeless passion that filled my heart to bursting, when of a sudden—“Yvonne, Yvonne!” came Geneviève's fresh voice from the other end of the terrace. ”

“ Yvonne in these ten years has changed but to grow more beautiful. Bodily, there was, I think, no room for that change; but growth is the law of such a spirit as hers, and so into her perfect eyes, wells of light as of old, has come a deeper and more immeasurable wisdom. ”

“ The world went right on, no matter who lay still and cold in the house next door or the house across the street. A phrase Yvonne was fond of saying recurred to him: "Nothing matters very much." At times like this you knew nothing did. Men were born, and lived a little, and then lay still and cold . . . and people smiled and children with red sleds shouted for glee in the streets . . .
The thing on the door! A circle of flowers, and a trail of lavender gauze that danced up the wind like a sprite. It whipped his heart, that lavender gauze, with its every flutter. ”

“ She can see a little, though everything is dim, and the lace it is knitted,—not pillow lace, like some,—and she can make her fingers go, oh, so quickly! Ah, she has much talent, the little Yvonne, and you must hear her sing."
So Yvonne sang to them standing there in the middle of the room, without notes and unaccompanied, and the plaintiveness of the tone and the richness of the voice drew tears from the eyes of the three American girls, while father and mother and aunt were lost in admiration as they gazed at the slender figure in the pale pink gown. ”

“ Yvonne, with eyes closed, hardly breathed, but through the veil of semi-consciousness which mercifully wrapped her senses, she could still hear those awful words, and feel the pollution of those loathsome kisses with which—true to his threat—this creature—half man, wholly devil, whom she could not see, but whom she hated and feared as she would Satan himself—now covered her face and throat. ”

“ But Yvonne, well won these ten years back, I woo again continually, and our daily life together is never without the spur of fresh interest and further possibilities.
“The familiar is held cheap,” say the disappointed; and “Use dulls the edge of passion,” say they whose passion has never known the edge which finely tempered spirits take on.
288But familiarity, the crucial intimacy of day by day companionship, only reveals to me in Yvonne the richer reasons for my reverence; while passion grows but the more poignant as it realizes the exhaustless depths of the nature which responds to it. ”

“ Joyce walked away moodily. His cousin’s cut brought back the old familiar sense of degradation which Yvonne had charmed away. Again he realised that he was an outcast, a blot upon society, an object of scorn for men of good repute. No one but Yvonne could have befriended him and forgotten what he was. And Yvonne herself,—was her friendship not perhaps solely due to her childlike incapacity to appreciate the depths of his disgrace? He would have given anything not to have met the Canon on the stairs. ”

“ But now—it was neither Martin-Roget's heavy footfall nor the shuffling gait of Louise Adet which had roused Yvonne from her trance-like sleep. It was a gentle, soft, creeping step which was slowly, cautiously mounting the stairs. Yvonne crouching against the wall could count every tread—now and then a board creaked—now and then the footsteps halted. ”

“ I was aware of nothing so keenly as the sensation that had intoxicated me as I held Yvonne’s unconsenting body for those few moments in my arms, while removing her from the boat. To have touched her at all against her will seemed a sacrilege; but when a sacrilege has seemed a plain necessity I have never been the one to balk at it. ”

“ She sat down at the piano and sang Gounod’s Serenade. Something in its yearning tenderness touched the man in his softened mood. The pure passion of Yvonne’s voice pierced through the thick layers of shame and dead hopes and deadening memories that had encrusted round his heart, and met it in a tiny thrill. ”

“ Yvonne gazed, unseeing, through the carriage window as the barouche rattled on the cobble-stones of the streets of Bristol. She marvelled at the number of people who went gaily by along the streets, unheeding, unknowing that the greatest depths of misery to which any human being could sink had been probed by the unfortunate young girl who wide-eyed, mute and broken-hearted gazed out upon the busy world without. ”

“ Yvonne knew everybody, and everybody knew her. She had a smile and a nod for the Widow Limbour, whose confectionery and sweets had won her heart years ago, for Marrec the barber, Daoudal the baker, Madame Le Naour, purveyor of a strange blend in hats and liqueurs, and Madame Le Garrec, seller of newspapers and picture postcards. ”

“ There was a moment of silence.
“Men who are not men—that must be another of Miss Ethel’s pleasantries,” thought Yvonne.
Ethel looked at her water-color, throwing back her shoulders to judge better of the effect. What she did not understand was that a young woman like Yvonne should accommodate herself to such a state of affairs—Yvonne, who but now, during the squabble with Miss Arabella, had the decided air of some Gaulish Amazon. Why should she be so timid with regard to such insolent dogs? She felt really a lofty and protecting pity for this sister of an old country, nice as she was. ”

“ I love you as my own son, and there is no one else in the world whom I love as I love Yvonne de Lamourie. Not her own father can love her as I do, a lonely old man to whom her face is more than sunshine. ”

“ Yvonne nodded. "She does. I could tell. The way she looked at you when we passed. And the way she looked at me. . . . Women know all about one another, my dear. I understood her."
"Say!" Jock snorted. "Well, you're wrong for once, honey. Eunice Hathaway doesn't care about anything in God's world except herself and—glitter."
Yvonne repeated the word meditatively. "That's your pet word, isn't it? I've heard you use it a hundred times."
"I'm for it," Jock declared. "It's expressive. Hard and bright and cold. Glitter. Just the sound of it! Things that shine and don't give any warmth. ”

“ Nothing was important now but her delicate softness beside him, her perfume in his nostrils, her voice saying, "—unless you are there, Jock Hamill." The face of Parke Demorest of Demorest Motors flashed across his vision and was gone, without effect. He put his arms about Yvonne, and his voice shook a little in the force of its sincerity. "Darling—the only thing you could possibly say that would matter would be that—well, that there isn't any hope for me, ever. That would rip me up into a million pieces. But nothing else in the world could make any difference. Not any thing." ”

“ Was it a bewildering device of his to show her kindness, provide for her future?
“I could n’t accept it from you,” she added incoherently.
“But it is I who want you, Yvonne,” said the Canon, earnestly. “It is I who must have you to brighten my home and comfort my life. If your life is lying idle, as it were, Yvonne, give it me to use for my happiness. For months I have given this my deepest, most anxious thought. I am not a man to talk lightly of love and marriage. When I say that I want you, it means that you are necessary to me. ”

“ When we go into Montreal for the months of December and January, exchanging for a little the quiet of our country home for the glitter of rout and function, no other 287court so choice, so loyal, and so revering as that which Yvonne gathers about her. The wise, drawn by her wit, are held fast by her beauty; while the gay, drawn by her beauty, rise to a worship of her wit and worth.
Yvonne’s small hands are white and alive and restless as on that day in the Grand Pré orchard when, prying into the heart of the apple-blossom, they pried into and set fast hold upon the strings of my heart also. ”

“ I see now that I was wrong."
"You are making me blush!" said Yvonne, which was not true, for her graceful composure seldom deserted her. "I shall tell Paul that you have been paying me compliments."
"I wish you would. I don't believe he thinks I appreciate you as highly as I do."
"He does," replied Yvonne naively; "he regards you as a connoisseur of good looks!"
"Oh!" cried Don. "Oh! listen to her! Yvonne, you are growing vain."
"A woman without vanity is not appreciated."
"A woman without vanity is not human." ”

“ Tell him not to dress, Yvonne."
"By all means, tell him to come as he is," said the Colonel, his face lighting with pleasure at this news.
"Pardon, m'sieur," said Yvonne. "Monsieur Max already hastens to his room and says the dinner shall not delay, that he shall be fast,—ver' queeck."
"Max can be fast," said Constance smiling. "Well, we will dawdle over our fish. I never thought of his coming," she went on, watching Yvonne as she deftly laid another place beside Frances. ”

“ He paused, speculating. "Not so bad to have the girl you loved an actress, would it be? Because then you might see her in some of the costumes and against some of the backgrounds you like to imagine for her. Do you know, Yvonne, I've thought several times you're probably an actress."
"Why? What makes you think that?"
"It's logical. Somebody'd surely capitalize on beauty like that." He chuckled, in amusement and perfect content. "Just imagine loving anybody as I love you, and not knowing one thing about them except that they're the only person in the world!" ”

“ He boggled his words, and then, with an effort, spoke with more of steadiness. "I have been yielding to my selfishness, Yvonne; yielding to a selfish love. It was a mistake—"
He looked away from her to avoid the look that she bent upon him. He moved restlessly, and dared not even glance at her. "Yvonne, Yvonne, I love you so," he murmured, but not a word did she say in reply.
In a few moments she opened the carriage door. "We wish to return," she said, composedly. ”

“ It came to Jock that they had not shown him such friendly attention for weeks. "Look!" he said. "Right now I'm the most popular man in the fraternity, because I'm the only one who knows you." Pride swelled in him, and he tugged at Yvonne's little hand. "Come on, darling—come in a minute and let me introduce them."
"Mountain to Mohammed?" began Yvonne. But something about Jock's face made her yield. She got out of the limousine and stood, straight and slim and dazzling, on the pavement. "You just want to parade me," she accused, dimpling up at him, "—like a little trick puppy on a leash!" ”

“ In this way, then, the difficulty was settled, and Yvonne found herself in quarters of unwonted comfort for a West India trader, Captain Eliphalet being given to luxury beyond the most of his Puritan kin. She was contented with her accomplishment so far as it went; and having two gallant men to deal with she felt already secure of her empire. She read approbation, too, in those enigmatic eyes of Mother Pêche, with their whites ever glancing and gleaming. ”

“ Yvonne grew pale to the lips.
“Then you think Paul is not”—she began, in a strained voice.
“I think he may not be in this ship,” interrupted Mother Pêche hurriedly. “But I’ll go right now and find out. Wait here for me.” And she went off briskly, poking through the confusion with her staff.
She knew men, this old dame; and she quickly found out what she wanted to find out. Trembling with apprehension, she came back to Yvonne—and went straight to the point.
“No, no, dear heart!” she began. “He is not here. He is on the other ship yonder. ”

“ But for you I would have died long since, in that horrible place, and I believe that you and Yvonne are the only ones in this world who truly care for me now. My gratitude and love is all that I can give you, for I am poor [Pg 349] as regards worldly wealth. But I know you understand! You are being rewarded by another and more powerful hand than mine. Give my love to Yvonne, and my most earnest wishes for her happiness. In you she will have the husband she deserves!" Jean was almost too overcome to speak at all. ”

“ A minute more, and the boat dropped astern; and Yvonne’s eyes were all for the other ship. But Mother Pêche looked back; and she saw, leaning hungrily over the taffrail of the “Good Hope,” the long form of the boy-faced soldier who had twice carried Yvonne in his fortunate arms.
246 Chapter XXXIII
The Divine Right of Queens When Yvonne stood at last upon the deck of the ship of her desire, her heart, without warning, began a far too vehement gratulation. ”