Only a Girl's Love, Charles Garvice [a book to read .txt] 📗

ready to bow with complaisant homage—if they meant much to him, how much more did they mean to her?

All her young maiden faith spoke in those three words. With them she surrendered her young, pure life, her unstained, unsullied heart to him. With a passion as intense as his own, she repaid him tenfold. For a moment he was silent, his eyes fixed on the stars, his whole being thrilling under the music—the joy of this simple avowal. Then he pressed her to him, and poured a shower of kisses upon her hair and upon her arm which lay across his breast.

"My darling, my darling!" he murmured. "Is it really true? Can I—dare I believe it: you love me? Oh, my darling, the whole world seems changed to me. You love me! See, Stella, it seems so wonderful that I cannot realize it. Let me see your eyes, I shall find the truth there."

She pressed still closer to him, but he raised her head gently—in his very touch was a caress, and it was as if his hands kissed her—and looked long into the rapt, upturned eyes. Then he bent his head slowly, and kissed her once—hungrily, clingingly.

Stella's eyes closed and her face paled under that passionate caress, then slowly and with a little sigh she raised her head and kissed him back again, kiss for kiss.

No word was spoken; side by side, with her head upon his breast, they stood in silence. For them Time had vanished, the whole world seemed to stand still.

Half amazed, with a dim wonder at this new delight which had entered her life, Stella watched the stars and listened to the music of the river. Something had happened to change her whole existence, it was as if the old Stella whom she knew so well had gone, and a new being, wonderfully blessed, wonderfully happy, had taken her place.

And as for him, for the man of the world, he too stood[92] amazed, overwhelmed by the new-born joy. If any one had told him that life held such a moment for him, he would not have believed it; he who had, as he thought, drained the cup of earthly pleasure to the dregs. His blood ran wildly through his veins, his heart beat madly.

"At last," he murmured; "this is love."

But suddenly the awakening came. With a start she looked up at him and strove to free herself, vainly, from his embrace.

"What have I done?" she whispered, with awe-subdued voice.

"Done!" he murmured, with a rapt smile. "Made one man happier than he ever dreamed it possible for mortal to be. That is all."

"Ah, no!" she said; "I have done wrong! I am afraid!—afraid!"

"Afraid of what? There is nothing to make you afraid. Can you speak of fear while you are in my arms—with your head on my breast? Lean back, my darling; now speak of fear."

"Yes, even now," she whispered. "Now—and I am so happy!" she broke off to herself, but he heard her. "So happy! Is it all a dream? Tell me."

He bent and kissed her.

"Is it a dream, do you think?" he answered.

The crimson dyed her face and neck, and her eyes drooped.

"And you are happy?" he said. "Think what I must be. For a man's love is deeper, more passionate than a woman's, Stella. Think what I must be!"

She sighed and looked up at him.

"But still it is wrong! I fear that. All the world will say that."

"All the world!" he echoed, with smiling scorn. "What have we to do with the world? We two stand outside, beyond it. Our world is love—is our two selves, my darling."

"All the world," she said. "Ah! what will they say?" and instinctively she glanced over her shoulder at the great house with the glow of light streaming from its many windows. "Even now—now they are wondering where you are, expecting, waiting for you. What would they say if they knew you were here with me—and—and all that has happened?"

His eyes darkened. He knew better than she, with all her fears, what they would say, and already he was braving himself to meet the storm, but he smiled to re-assure her.

"They will say that I am the most fortunate of men. They will say that the gods have lavished their good gifts with both hands—they have given me all the things that you make so much of, and the greatest of all things—the true sole love of a pure, beautiful angel."

"Oh, hush, hush!" she murmured.

"You are an angel to me," he said, simply. "I am not worthy to touch the hem of your dress! If I could but live my worthless, sinful life over again, for your sake, my darling, it should be purer and a little less unworthy of you."

"Oh, hush!" she murmured. "You unworthy of me! You are my king!"

[93]

Strong man as he was he was stirred and moved to the depths of his being at the simple words, eloquent of her absolute trust and devotion.

"My Stella," he murmured, "if you knew all; but see, my life is yours from henceforth. I place it in your hands, mold it as you will. It is yours henceforth."

She was looking at him, all her soul in her eyes, and at his words of passionate protestation, a sudden thrill ran through her, then as instantly, as if a sudden cold hand had come between them, she shivered.

"Mine," she breathed, fearfully, "until they snatch it from me."

CHAPTER XIII.

He started. The words had almost the solemnity of a prophesy.

"Who will dare?" he said; then he laughed. "My little, fearsome, trembling darling!" he murmured, "fear nothing or rather, tell me what you fear, and whom."

She glanced toward the windows.

"I fear them all!" she said, quietly and simply.

"My father?"

She inclined her head and let her head fall upon his shoulder.

"The countess, all of them. Lord Leycester——"

He put his hand upon her lips softly.

"What was that I heard?" he said, with tender reproach.

She looked up.

"Leycester," she whispered.

He nodded.

"Would to Heaven the name stood alone," he said, almost bitterly. "The barrier you fancy stands between us would vanish and fade away then. Never, even in sport, call me by my title again, my darling, or I shall hate it!"

She smiled.

"I shall never forget it," she said. "They will not let me. I am not Lady Lenore."

He started slightly, then looked down at her.

"Thank Heaven, no!" he said, with a smile.

Stella smiled almost sadly.

"She might forget; she is noble too. How beautiful she is!"

"Is she?" he said, smiling down at her. "To me there is only one beautiful face in the world, and—it is here," and he touched it with his finger—"here—my very own. But what is Lenore to us to-night, my darling? Why do you speak of her?"

"Because—shall I tell you?"

He nodded, looking down at her.

"Because they said—Lady Lilian said, that——" she stopped.

"Well?"

"That they wished you to marry her," she whispered.

He laughed, his short laugh.

"She might say the same of several young ladies," he said. "My mother is very anxious on the point. Yes, but wishes are[94] not horses, or one could probably be persuaded to mount and ride as their parents wish them—don't that sound wise and profound? I shall not ride to Lady Lenore; I have ridden to your feet, my darling!"

"And you will never ride away again," she murmured.

"Never," he said. "Here, by your side, I shall remain while life lasts!"

"While life lasts!" she repeated, as if the words were music. "I shall have you near me always. Ah, it sounds too beautiful! too beautiful!"

"But it will be true," he said.

The clock chimed the hour. Stella started.

"So late!" she said, with a little sigh. "I must go!" and she glanced at the windows with a little shudder. "If I could but steal away without seeing them—without being seen! I feel—" she paused, and the crimson covered her face and neck—"as if they had but to glance at me to know—to know what has happened," and she trembled.

"Are you so afraid?" he said. "Really so afraid? Well, why should they know?"

She looked up eagerly.

"Oh, no, do not let them know! Why should we tell them; it—it is like letting them share in our happiness; it is our secret, is it not?"

"Let us keep it," he said, quietly, musingly. "Why should they know, indeed! Let us keep the world outside, for a while at least. You and I alone in our love, my darling."

With his arm round her they went back to the fernery, and here she drew away from him, but not until he had taken another kiss.

"It is our real 'good night,' you know," he said; "the 'good-night' we shall say presently will mean nothing. This is our 'good-night.' Happy dreams, my angel, my star!"

Stella clung to him for a moment with a little reluctant sigh, then she looked up at him with a smile.

"I am afraid I am awfully tumbled and tangled," she said, putting her hand to her hair.

He smoothed the silken threads with his hand, and as he did so drew the rose from her hair.

"This is mine," he murmured, and he put it in his coat.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "And this is how you keep our secret! Do you not think every eye would notice that great rose, and know whence it came?"

"Yes, yes, I see," he said. "After all, a woman is the one for a secret—the man is not in the field; but then it will be safe here," and he put the rose inside the breast of his coat.

Then trying to look as if nothing had happened, trying to look as if the whole world had not become changed for her, Stella sauntered into the drawing-room by his side.

And it really seemed as if no one had noticed their entrance. Stella felt inclined to congratulate herself, not taking into consideration the usages of high breeding, which enable so many[95] people to look as if they were unaware of an entrance which they had been expecting for an hour since.

"No one seems to notice," she whispered behind her fan, but Lord Leycester smiled—he knew better.

She walked up the room, and Lord Leycester stopped before a picture and pointed to it; but he did not speak of the picture—instead, he murmured:

"Will you meet me by the stile by the river to-morrow evening, Stella?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"I will bring the boat, and we will row down the stream. Will you come at six o'clock?"

"Yes," she said again.

If he asked her to meet him on the banks of the Styx, she would have answered as obediently.

Then Mr. Etheridge approached with the countess, and before he could speak Lord Leycester took the bull by the horns, as it were.

"Lilian is delighted with the sketch," he said. "We left her filled with gratitude, did we not Miss Etheridge?"

Stella inclined her head. The large, serene eyes of the countess seemed to penetrate to the bottom of her heart and read her—their—secret already.

"I think we must be going, Stella; the fly has been waiting some time," said her uncle in his quiet fashion.

"So soon!" murmured the countess.

But Mr. Etheridge glanced at the clock with a smile, and Stella held out her hand.

As she did so, she felt rather than saw the graceful form of Lady Lenore coming toward them.

"Are you going, Miss Etheridge?" she said, her clear voice full of regret. "We have seen so little of you; and I meant to ask you so much about Italy. I am so sorry."

And as she spoke, she looked full into poor Stella's eyes.

For a moment Stella was silent and downcast, then she raised her eyes and held out her hand.

"It is late," she murmured. "Yes, we must go."

As she looked up, she met the gaze of the violet eyes, and almost started, for there seemed to be shining in them a significant smile of mocking scorn and contemptuous amusement; they seemed to say, quite plainly:

"You think that no one knows your secret. You think that you have triumphed, that you have won him. Poor simple child, poor fool. Wait and see!"

If ever eyes spoke, this is what Lady Lenore's seemed to say in that momentary glance, and as Stella turned aside, her face paled slightly.

"You must come and see us again, Miss Etheridge," said the countess, graciously.

"Lilian has extorted a solemn promise to that effect," said Leycester, as he shook hands with Mr. Etheridge.

Then he held out his hand to Stella, but in spite of prudence he could not part from her till the last moment.

[96]

"Let me take you to your carriage," he said, "and see that you are well wrapped up."

The countess's eyes grew cold, and she looked beyond them rather than at them, and Stella murmured