Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
Gabrielle's sun was now nearing its zenith; Henri had long intended to make her his wife at the altar; proceedings for divorce from his wife, Marguerite de Valois, were running smoothly; and now the crowning day in the two lives thus romantically linked was at hand.
In spite of Considine's discouragement her interest in Arthur was now fully aroused, and more eagerly for the very reason of the limits which her husband had set to her activities. Life at Lapton Manor to a person of Gabrielle's essential vitality was dull. The nature of the surrounding country with its near horizons and lack of physical breadth or freedom imprisoned her spirit.
There was that in Gabrielle's heart which the hunchback could not read. Gabrielle appreciated the nobility of the man who was trying to save her, but Gabrielle also understood the strength of her own love and her own determination, but she showed nothing of this in her words. All she said was: "Well, I am not safe yet. What do you want me to do?" The hunchback instructed her.
He never mentioned Gabrielle's name to her again. Next morning, in a calm and serious mood, he approached her on the subject of his return to Lapton. "Would you mind very much," he said, "if I don't go back to Devonshire? I feel that I'm rather out of place there. You see, I'm older than the others. Do you think it could be arranged?"
Their coachmen, older and more withered than themselves, wore mid-Victorian whiskers, and shiny cockades on their hats. In Gabrielle's drawing-room the visitors sat on the extreme edges of their chairs. They spoke with a faded propriety, dropped their final "g's," and specialised in the abbreviation "ain't."
"At any rate I may ask her?" said Mrs. Payne. "Certainly, certainly you'll find her in the garden." Mrs. Payne was in some doubt as to what Gabrielle's answer would be. She moved to the proposal obliquely, feeling like a conspirator, and one so unused to conspiracy that her manner was bound to betray her.
Like most wealthy women of her type, she had a wide circle of male friends. Younger men declared her to be "a real pal," and with some of the older beaux she would flirt and be amused by their flattering speeches. Gabrielle's mother, the second daughter of Lord Buckhurst, had been dead several years when the brilliant politician met his second wife at a garden-party at Dollis Hill.
Etienne ran through the apartments of the chateau, down the grand staircase, and along the beach towards Gabrielle's house, where he saw lights. When Gabrielle, quitting her lover, had entered the little garden, she saw, by the gleam of a torch which lighted her nurse's spinning-wheel, the figure of a man sitting in the chair of that excellent woman.
It was the usual type of shooting accident that no one could explain. The gun had gone off and shot him dead. "He was terribly mutilated about the head," said Mrs. Payne's informant. She did not know what had happened to his widow. Probably she had gone to her cousins the Halbertons. In any case the jury had completely exonerated her. Mrs. Payne flared up in Gabrielle's defence. "Exonerated?"
Monsieur Bargemont ascended to the third floor and rang at a door on the landing, which was opened. Jean could hear Gabrielle's voice saying: "How late you are coming home, dear; I have sent Rosalie to bed; I was waiting up for you, you see." The man replied, still puffing and panting with his exertions: "Just fancy, they wanted to pitch me into the river, those scoundrels!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking