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Tell her a word, and she would swiftly give birth to a scandal which the world would not willingly let die, in which Mr. Harry Boyce, if he were indeed the knave of their hypothesis, might easily find a means to strengthen his grip of Alison. Perhaps Madame Alison, who was no kitten, might not be altogether infatuated.
Boyce attired herself in soft and costly silks, generally black, closely and fashionably made, and completed by various fanciful and distinguished trifles rings, an old chatelaine, a diamond brooch which Marcella remembered, the same, and worn in the same way, since her childhood. Mrs.
"Oh, the men! Odious creatures!" she rose on her elbow and looked at them, and looked down at her dress and patted it. Colonel Boyce accepted the challenge briskly, and marched upon her. "Egad, my lady, your name is cruelty." "Who I, sir? I vow I never had the heart to see any creature suffer." "Nay, your very nature is cruelty. You exist but to torture us."
"I see you are no hand with a woman." "Do I take after you, sir? We came upon a woman who said she was Mrs. Oliver Boyce and could not live with him, and boasted vehemently that she was no mother of mine." Colonel Boyce plucked at his mouth. "So dear Rachel has got her finger into the pie. Why, Harry, you have had no luck." "She is your wife, then. Oh, I admire your taste, sir.
Marcella grew up on the instant: she was beautiful, of course; she had, so people said, the "Boyce eyes and hair;" she had sweeping gowns, generally of white muslin with cherry-coloured ribbons; she went here and there with the Princess, laughing and talking quite calmly with the greatest people in the land, her romantic friendship with the adored of England making her all the time the observed of all observers, bringing her a thousand delicate flatteries and attentions.
"Egad, the old lady would go to church with me to-morrow if I asked her;" he laughed, and seemed to think that in that at least my lady showed sense. "You had better take her, sir," said Harry, with a sneer. "I know she has a good dower. And a fool and her money are soon parted." "Damme, Harry, you are venomous!" For the first time in their acquaintance Colonel Boyce showed some signs of smarting.
Seated on the ground, my back against a great oak tree, I was quickly surrounded by a crowd of my neighbors, the workmen and the people who had been drawn to the spot by the news of the strange accident, to gaze at me as if I were some unknown being excavated from the bowels of the earth, I was sipping some brandy and water which Burton had handed me, when Aaron Boyce pushed himself in front of me.
Boyce, I desire that you would come to me at Highgate. I have to-day heard from Geoffrey Waverton what you must instantly know. And the truth is, I cannot be content till I speak with you. But I would not have you come for this my asking.
Then came Lady Fenimore with Boyce, black-spectacled, soldierly, bull-necked, his little bronze cross conspicuous among the medals on his breast, his elbow gripped by a weatherbeaten young soldier, one of his captains, as I learned afterwards, home on leave, who had claimed the privilege of guiding his blind footsteps.
They were borne past him by their vehemence, but he carried no sword and their swords were all about him. There was no hope. Two blades seared through his body and he fell. Colonel Boyce heard the clatter of ash and steel and turned at his leisure to look. It was a moment before he made out Harry in the midst of the melee. Then he shouted of help and threats and ran on with ready sword.
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