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The ball whirled on the hours went by like bright, swift flashes, and, from the moment of the redowa, to Sir Everard Kingsland it was one brief, intoxicating dream of delirium. My Lady Kingsland's maternal frowns, my Lady Louise's imperial scorn all were forgotten.
"You are not very romantic, Mr. Parmalee. You don't ask me for my love, or any of that sentimental nonsense," with a laugh. "And you really mean it you really mean to make Lady Kingsland's poor companion your wife?" "Never meant anything more in my life. It is a go, then?" "I will marry you, Mr. Parmalee, if you desire it." "And you won't go back on a fellow?" asked Mr. Parmalee, suspiciously.
And I saved Sir Everard Kingsland's life! Poor fools! A thousand times better for you all if I had let that midnight assassin shoot him down like a dog!" It was fully ten o'clock, and the hunting-party were ready to start, when Sir Everard Kingsland joined them, looking handsome and happy as a young prince in his very becoming hunting costume.
I have been treated as a confidential friend both by him and his mother." "By the deceased Lady Kingsland also, I conclude?" "I was in the late Lady Kingsland's confidence yes." "You were the last who saw her alive on the night of March tenth the night of the murder?" "I was." "Where did you part from her?" "At her own chamber door.
And Mildred, not knowing what else to do, went. Next morning, hours before Lady Kingsland was out of bed, Lady Kingsland's son was galloping over the breezy hills and golden downs. An hour's hard run, and he made straight for Hunsden Hall. Miss Hunsden was taking a constitutional up and down the terrace overlooking the sea, with three big dogs.
I'll give her another quarter. If she isn't with me in that time, then good-bye to Lady Kingsland and my keeping her secret." Ten minutes passed. As he replaced his watch a light step sounded on the frozen snow, a shadow darkened the entrance, and Lady Kingsland's pale, proud face looked fixedly at him in the moonlight. He took off his hat and threw away his half-smoked cigar.
Two angry red spots, quite foreign to her usual complexion, burned on Lady Louise's fair cheeks. She turned abruptly away and left the gentlemen. "Little Harrie is pretty enough to excuse an older man losing his head," Lord Carteret answered; "but it would not suit Lady Kingsland's book at all.
Miss Sybilla Silver." "Almost smart enough for a Yankee, Mr. Parmalee, and wonderfully good at guessing." "Yes? And what have you guessed this time?" "That you have Lady Kingsland's secret; that that portrait the last of the five is the clew. That you hold the baronet's bride in the hollow of your hand!" She spoke the last words close to his ear, in a fierce, sibilant whisper.
Not very lovely, certainly; but Sir Jasper Kingsland's eyes lighted with pride and joy as he looked. For was it not a boy? Had he not at last, after weary, weary waiting, the desire of his heart a son to inherit the estate and perpetuate the ancient name? "It is so sweet, papa!" Miss Mildred whispered, her small, rather sickly face quite radiant; "and its eyes are the image of yours.
Oh, Everard, what does all this mean?" "It means, mother, that I am a mad, desperate and reckless man; that I don't care whether I ever return to England again or not." Lady Kingsland's own imperious spirit began to rise. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed. "It means you are a headstrong, selfish, cruel boy!
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