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He disliked women who made capital out of their beauty, by allowing their photographs to be on sale in shop-windows and to appear constantly in cheap pictorials, and of these Lady Beaulyon was a notorious example, to say nothing of the graver sins against morality and principle for which she was renowned.
Bludlip Courtenay just then re-entered the drawing-room from the garden, fanning herself vigorously with her handkerchief. "It is so frightfully warm!" she complained "Such a burning sun! So bad for the skin! They are picking strawberries and eating them off the plants very nice, I daresay but quite messy. Eva Beaulyon and two of the men have taken a boat and gone on the water.
"Bien! tres-bien!" said Gigue, approvingly, with a smile round at the company "Mademoiselle Cicely commence a chanter! Ze petite sera une grande cantatrice! N'est-ce-pas?" A stiffly civil wonderment seemed frozen on the faces of Lady Beaulyon and the others present.
"Oh!" She paused. "Lady Beaulyon and the others did not like it at all. They thought you were trying to make us ashamed of ourselves." "They were right," he said, cheerfully "I was!" "Well, you succeeded, in a way. But I was angry!" He smiled. "Were you, really? How dreadful! But you got over it?" "Yes," she said, meditatively "I got over it. I suppose you were right, and of course we were wrong.
Bludlip Courtenay and Lady Beaulyon took place, as to whether 'Maryllia Van' in her professed detestation of Lord Roxmouth, would forget etiquette and the rule of 'precedence' but they soon saw she did not intend to so commit herself. For when all her guests had passed in before her, she followed resignedly on the arm of the future Duke.
That same evening when Maryllia was dressing for dinner, there came a tap at her bedroom door, and in response to her 'Come in! Eva Beaulyon entered. "May I speak to you alone for a minute?" she said. Maryllia assented, giving a sign to her maid to leave the room. "Well, what is it, Eva?" said Maryllia, when the girl had gone "Anything wrong?"
But at that moment Maryllia stepped gently into their midst, her eyes shining, her face very pale. "Not on Sunday, please!" she said. A stillness fell upon them all. They gazed upon each other in sheer stupefaction. Lady Beaulyon smiled disdainfully. "Not on Sunday? What are you talking about, Maryllia? Not WHAT on Sunday?"
She took a sip at her 'cordial, watching with artistic appreciation the gay scene in the Manor dining-room the twinkling lights on the silver and glass and flowers the elegant dresses of the women, the jewels that flashed like starbeams on the lovely neck and shoulders of Lady Beaulyon, the ripples of gold-auburn in Maryllia's hair, it was a picture that radiated with a thousand colours on the eye and the brain, and was certainly one destined, so far as many of those who formed a part of it were concerned, never to be forgotten.
The villagers hung about shyly, loth to lose sight of the 'quality'; two or three 'county' people lingered also, to stare at, and comment upon, the notorious 'beauty, Lady Beaulyon, whose physical charms, having been freely advertised for some years in the society columns of the press, were naturally 'on show' for the criticism of Tom, Dick and Harry, Mrs.
When men come to be ashamed of their mothers as many of them are to-day there will be but little hope of good for future generations! And the fact that there are many women of title and position like your guest, Lady Beaulyon, who deliberately drag their husband's honour through the dust and publicly glory in their own disgrace, does not make their crime the less, but rather the more criminal.
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