The Hoyden Part 40

"Ah! she will _make_ you remember it," cries Marian, with a queer laugh. "I warn you of _that!"_

"You warn me!"

"Yes--yes." She throws out her arms in the moonlight, and laughs again, with a great but cruel delight. "You will see. You don't care for her, she doesn't care for you, and you will see----"

"Marian, take care! I can hear nothing said against my wife, even by you."

"You prefer to hear it, then, from others?" says Mrs. Bethune, leaning back against the railings that overlook the gardens beneath, with a strange smile upon her lips.

"I prefer to believe that there is nothing to hear"--haughtily.

"You can prefer what you like," says she, with a sudden burst of rage; "but hear you shall!"

She takes a step nearer him.

"I shall not," says Rylton firmly, if gently. "She is my wife. I have made her that! I shall remember it."

"And she," says Marian furiously, "what does _she_ remember? You may forget all old ties, if you will; but she--does _she_ forget?"

"Forget what?"

Mrs. Bethune laughs softly, sweetly, wildly.

"Are you blind? Are you _mad?_ Can you see _nothing?"_ cries she, her soft, musical voice now a little harsh and strained. "That cousin--have you seen nothing there?"

"You are alluding to Hescott?"

"Yes--to him, and--t.i.ta!"

"t.i.ta?" His brow darkens. "What are you going to say of her?"

"What you"--deliberately--"do not dare to say, although you know it--that she is absolutely depraved!"

_"Depraved!"_

"There--stand back!" She laughs, a strange laugh. She has shaken herself free from him. "Fancy your taking it like that!" says she.

She is laughing still, but panting; the pressure of his hands on her arms is still fresh. "And have you not seen for yourself, then? Is it not open to all the world to see? Is no one talking but _me?_ Why, her flirtation with her cousin is common talk."

"Depraved, you said!" He has recovered out of that first wild pa.s.sion of his, and is now gazing at her with a certain degree of composure. "Depraved! I will not have that word used. She is young--thoughtless--foolish, if you will, but not depraved!"

"You can delude yourself just as long as you like," returns she, shrugging her shoulders, "but, all the same, I warn you. I----"

She stops suddenly; voices and steps, coming nearer, check her words. She draws a little away from Rylton, and, lifting her fan, waves it indolently to and fro. The voice belongs to Minnie Hescott, who, with her partner, has come out to the balcony, and now moves down the steps to the lighted gardens below. Mrs. Bethune would have been glad at the thought that Miss Hescott had not seen her; but there had been one moment when she knew the girl's eyes had penetrated through the dusk where she stood, and had known her.

Not that it mattered much. The Hescott girl was of little consequence at any time. Yet sharp, too! Perhaps, after all, she _is_ of consequence. She has gone, however--and it is a mere question whether she had seen her with Sir Maurice or not. Of course, the girl would be on her brother's side, and if the brother is really in love with that little silly fool--and if a divorce was to be thought of--the girl might make herself troublesome.

Mrs. Bethune, leaning over the railings lost in such thoughts, suddenly sees something. She raises herself, and peers more keenly into the soft light below. Yes--yes, _surely!_

But Minnie Hescott, who has gone down the steps into the garden, has seen something too--that fair, fierce face leaning over the balcony!

The eyes are following t.i.ta and her brother, Tom Hescott.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW RYLTON MAKES A MOST DISHONOURABLE BET, AND HOW HE REPENTS OF IT; AND HOW, THOUGH HE WOULD HAVE WITHDRAWN FROM IT, HE FINDS HE CANNOT.

"You have said," says Rylton, when the steps have ceased, "that you would warn me about my wife. Of what?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Ah, you are so violent--you take things so very unpleasantly--that one is quite afraid to speak."

"You mean something"--sternly. "I apologize to you if I was rough a moment since. I--it was so sudden--I forgot myself, I think."

"To be able to forget is a most excellent thing--at _times,"_ says she, with a curious smile, her eyes hidden. "If I were you I should cultivate it."

"It?"

"The power to forget--_at times!"_

"Speak," says he. "It is not a moment for sneers. Of what would you warn me?"

"I have told you before, but you took it badly."

"Words--words," says he, frowning.

"Would you have deeds?" She breaks into a low laugh. "Oh, how foolish you are! Why don't you let things go?"

"What did you mean?" persists he icily.

"What a tragic tone!" Her manner is all changed; she is laughing now. "Well, what _did_ I mean? That your wife---- Stay!" with a little comic uplifting of her beautiful shoulders and an exaggerated show of fear, "do not a.s.sault me again. That your wife has shown the bad taste to prefer her cousin--her old lover--to you!"

"As I said, words, mere words," returns he, with a forced smile.

"Because she speaks to him, dances with him, is civil to him, as she is civil to all guests----"

"Is she _just as_ civil to all her guests?"

"I think so. It is my part to do her justice," says he coldly, "and, I confess, I think her a perfect hostess, if----"

"If?"

"If wanting in a few social matters. As to her cousin, Mr.

Hescott--being one of her few relations, she is naturally attentive to him."

_"Very!"_