United States or Paraguay ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Diva, as might have been expected, gave proof of her accustomed perfidy before long, for she certainly gave the Padre to understand that the chain of inductive reasoning was of her own welding and Elizabeth had to hurry after him to correct this grabbing impression; but the discovery in itself was so great, that small false notes like these could not spoil the glorious harmony. Even Mr.
"Too good too kind," murmured Mr. Wyse. "Figgis, what do I do next?" Diva clapped the instrument into place. "Powder," she said to herself, remembering what she had seen in the glass, and whizzed upstairs.
The diva trembled when she heard the voice, and blushing deeply, she hastily replied: "No, thank God, I am not hurt. The coolness of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo prevented a misfortune." The vicomte, too, trembled when he heard the unknown's words, for he felt certain that the voice was the same as that which had given him the mysterious warning.
No; for the poor Diva had valuable ornaments visible on her person, an enamelled gold watch at her girdle, a diamond pin or brooch at the fastening of her dress on her chest, to possess themselves of which would have needed less time than was required for the perpetration of the murder.
So she put on her Prince of Wales's cloak, and, postponing further reflection over the bridge-party till a less busy occasion, set forth in unencumbered gentility for the morning gossip. At the corner of the High Street, she ran into Diva. "News," said Diva. "Met Mr. Wyse just now. Engaged to Susan. All over the town by now. Everybody knows. Oh, there's the Padre for the first time."
The duke touched her arm to convey that this was not the moment in which to betray her temper. "I am Edward Courtlandt." "The devil!" mimicked the diva. She and the duke heard a chuckle. "I beg your pardon again, Madame." "Well, what is it you wish?" amiably. The duke looked at her perplexedly. It seemed to him that she was always leaving him in the middle of things.
Even the absence of that one inhabitant of Tilling, dear Diva, did not strike a jarring note in this pæan of triumph, for Miss Mapp was quite satisfied that Diva was busy indoors, working her fingers to the bone over the application of bunches of roses, and, as usual, she was perfectly correct in her conjecture.
Diva gazed out over the marsh. She wanted desperately to regain her rosebud-frock, and she knew that Elizabeth was starving for further wearing of her poppies. Perhaps the wide, serene plain below inspired her with a hatred of littleness.
It was a little surprising that there were not more friends in the station-yard, but at the moment she heard a loud Qui-hi in the street below, and cautiously peering over the parapet, she got an admirable view of the Major in a frock-coat and tall hat. They went down the street and turned the corner.... Across the opening to the High Street there shot the figure of darling Diva.
"I dare say she well deserves it; she looks as if she did," said the Diva, with a pensive air, and a dash of melancholy in her voice.
Word Of The Day