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Updated: June 16, 2025
Caryll had so wantonly wasted. Wharton looked on with tight-pressed lips, and wondered. Rotherby recovered, and for a moment the two men stood apart, seeming to feel each other with their eyes before resuming. Then his lordship renewed the attack with vigor. Mr.
Caryll stepped forward to remind them of his presence which they seemed to stand in danger of forgetting. "I fear that I intrude, my lord," said he, and bowed in leave-taking. "I shall wait upon your lordship later. Your most devoted. Ma'am, your very humble servant." And he bowed himself out. In the ante-room he came upon Lord Rotherby, striding to and fro, his brow all furrowed with care.
Lord Rotherby was but one of the many of his type who furnished a court, a valetaille, to the gay, dissolute, handsome, witty duke, who might have been great had he not preferred his vices to his worthier parts. As they went by, Lord Rotherby bared his head and bowed, as did his companion. Her ladyship smiled upon him, but Hortensia's eyes looked rigidly ahead, her face a stone.
"What does it matter that you be what you claim to be? Is it to weigh with you, Rotherby?" Rotherby turned grave eyes upon her. He was, it seemed, not quite rotten through and through; there was still in him in the depths of him a core that was in a measure sound; and that core was reached. Most of all had the story weighed with him because it afforded the only explanation of why Mr.
"Precisely, monsieur," Louis said, "but if some one were there who was strong and brave it might be possible to teach a lesson to those who have played us false, and who have planned evil things! If that some one were you, Captain Rotherby, we should consider Monsieur Decresson and the others would consider that your debt to them was paid!" I whistled softly to myself. I began to see Louis' idea.
"I wonder who will carry his message?" ventured Collis to the ceiling. Rotherby turned on him, fierce as a rat. "It is a matter you may discover to your cost, Sir Harry," he snarled. "I think," put in his grace very languidly, "that you are troubling the harmony that is wont to reign here." His lordship stood still a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he snatched up a candlestick to hurl at Mr. Caryll.
"You mistake, I think," said he. "'Tis respect for my mother that inspires me." And his green eyes flashed upon the painted hag. She rose up a very fury. "What are you saying?" she shrilled. "D'ye hear the filthy fellow, Rotherby? He'll not name the wanton in my presence out of respect for her." "For shame, madam! You are speaking of his mother," cried Hortensia, hot with indignation. "Pshaw!
His tone was not quite nice, although perhaps the Lady Mary was the only one to perceive the note of challenge in it. But Mr. Craske, the poet, diverted attention to himself by a prolonged, malicious chuckle. Rotherby was just moving away from his mother at that moment. "They've never a word for each other to-day!" he cried.
Pacing the turf, on which the dew still gleamed and sparkled diamond-like, he pondered his course, and wondered now, at the last moment, was there no way to avert this meeting. Could not the matter be arranged? He was stirred out of his musings by Gascoigne's voice, raised to curse the tardiness of Lord Rotherby. "'Slife! Where does the fellow tarry?
For a moment I thought that he was going to accept my offer. He opened his mouth but said nothing. He looked away into the darkness once more, and then back into my face. By this time I knew that he had made up his mind. He was more like himself again. "Monsieur Rotherby," he said, "if I have hesitated at all, it was for your sake. You are a gentleman of great position.
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