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What do boys like you want of wives! only three-and-twenty!" He laughed good-humoredly. "My dear aunt, boys of three-and-twenty are tolerably well-grown; it isn't a bad age to marry. Why, according to Debrett, my father was only three-and-twenty when he brought home a wife and son to Catheron Royals." She sat down suddenly, her head against the back of a chair, her face quite white.
You have my sincerest wishes for your health and happiness, and I am sure you will never quite forget us. Good-by, Miss Darrell." He held out his hand. "My congratulations are premature, but let me offer them now to the future Lady Catheron." "Miss Darrell!" When, in all the years that were gone, had he ever called her that before? She arose and gave him her hand proud, pale.
A fresh, cool breeze swept over the uplands, and brought a faint trace of life and color into Edith's dark pale cheeks. "This is the Lime Walk the prettiest at Powyss Place, to my mind." This was the young baronet's first commonplace remark. "If you will ascend the eminence yonder, Miss Darrell, I think I can point out Catheron Royals; that is, if you think it worth the trouble."
But then you have an excitable sort of nature, and were ever inclined to hyperbole; and it is a lady's privilege to talk." "And a man's to act. But I begin to think Sir Victor Catheron is something less than a man. The Catheron blood has bred many an outlaw, many bitter, bad men, but to-day I begin to think it has bred something infinitely worse a traitor and a coward!"
The Oriental dagger lies convenient to his hand on the table. "Here, now," says Mr. Ferrick to Mr. Ferrick, with a reflective frown, "which is guilty the brother or sister?" He goes and gives an order to one of his men, and the man starts in search of Mr. Juan Catheron. Mr. Catheron must be found, though they summon the detectives of Scotland Yard to aid them in their search.
It is better you should not marry better the name of Catheron should die out and be blotted from the face of the earth." "Lady Helena!" "I know what I am saying, Victor. You would say it too, perhaps, if you knew all." "You will tell me all. Oh yes, you will. You have said too much or too little, now. I must hear 'all, then I shall judge for myself. I may be in love still I am amenable to reason.
She swept on to the carriage with head held haughtily erect, a contemptuous smile on her lips, like anything on earth but a jilted maiden. Lady Helena's rooms were filled when they entered; not one invitation had been declined. Society had mustered in fullest force to see Sir Victor Catheron's low-born wife, to see how Miss Catheron bore her humiliation.
The deferential shop-girl listened and wrote the directions down on a card. When her patroness had finished she carried robe and card down the long room and called: "Miss Stuart!" A voice answered only one word, "Yes," softly spoken, but Sir Victor Catheron started as if he had been shot. The long show-room lay in semi-twilight the gas not yet lit.
Miss Darrell, allow me to present to you Sir Victor Catheron." Two darkly solemn eyes look up into Sir Victor Catheron's face. Both bow. Both murmur the pianissimo imbecility requisite on such occasions, and Edith Darrell is acquainted with a baronet. With, a baronet! Only yesterday, as it were, she was darning hose, and ironing linen at home, going about the dismal house slipshod and slatternly.
It will be ages from now, no doubt. Of course Lady Helena will object." "You don't mind that?" "Not a whit. A grand-aunt is a grand-aunt, nothing more. She is his only living relative, he is of age, able to speak and act for himself. The true love of any good man honors the woman who receives it. In that way Sir Victor Catheron honors me, and in no other.
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