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I've had enough of lies to last me for all my life; but now that I've told you, try to believe something else; and that is that I never loved Rosamund Elvan never never!" Bertha seemed on the point of laughing; but she drew in her breath, composed her features, let her eyes wander to a picture on the wall. "Can you believe that?"
The winter passed, and with the spring came events in which Bertha was interested. Mr. Elvan, who for his health's sake spent the winter in the south-west of France, fell so ill early in the year that Rosamund was summoned from Egypt. With all speed she travelled to St. Jean de Luz.
On the evening of the next day, there was a thunderous knock at Warburton's flat, and in rushed Franks. "You were at Ashtead yesterday," he cried. "I was. What of that?" "And you didn't come to tell me about the Elvans!" "About Miss Elvan, I suppose you mean?" said Will. "Well, yes, I do. I went there by chance this afternoon. The two men were away somewhere, I found Mrs.
After a few words about a canvas which stood on the easel another woman the artist was boldly transforming into loveliness Will remarked carelessly that he had spent the day at Ashtead. "By Jove, I ought to go and see those people," said Franks. "Better wait a little, perhaps," returned the other with a smile. "Miss Elvan is with them." "Ah!
There was notable distance between this and what Norbert was painting in that summer sunrise four years ago, with his portable easel in the gutter. And Miss Elvan admired "Sanctuary" at least, Franks said she did.
Perhaps you are prepared for it. Do you know that I went abroad last summer?" "I heard of it." "From Miss Elvan?" "From Mrs. Franks." "Mrs. Franks yes. She told you, then, that I had been to St. Jean de Luz? She told you that I had seen her sister?" "Yes," replied Bertha, and added quickly. "You had long wished to see that part of France." "That wasn't my reason for going.
A good lad, a good lad. I wonder do you think if I wrote a line, mentioning, by the way, that Rosamund's here, do you think he'd come?" The speaker accompanied his words with an intimate glance. Will averted his eyes, and gazed for a moment at the sunny landscape. "How long will Miss Elvan stay?" he asked. "Oh, as long as she likes. We are very glad to have her." Their looks met for an instant.
Could you come and have a cup of tea to-morrow afternoon?" At the conventional hour Will went to Oakley Crescent. Not, however, as he had expected, to find Miss Elvan alone; with her sat Mrs. Pomfret, in London for the afternoon. The simple and kindly lady talked as usual, but Will, nervously observant, felt sure that she was not quite at her ease.
Not that Miss Elvan represented herself as happy. In her very first letter she besought Bertha not to suppose that her appreciation of strange and beautiful things meant forgetfulness of what must be a lifelong sorrow. "I am often worse than depressed. I sleep very badly, and in the night I often shed wretched tears.
I have already stated that small landslips are of frequent occurrence on the sides of the hills. We had several times the entrance to our mines temporarily closed by them in the wet season. Mr. In North Wales we have, firstly, an intrusion of diabase, occurring in great mountain masses; secondly, Irregular tortuous dykes of diabase; thirdly, Elvan dykes; and, lastly, auriferous quartz veins.
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