The Essential Elinor Glyn Collection. Glyn Elinor
was an Englishman, and it was still the morning. There was no moon now and he had not even breakfasted! This shows sufficiently to what state he had come.
"I want you to tell me all about Versailles," she said, looking to the left and the gray wing beyond the chapel. "Its histories and its meanings. I used to read about it all after Sarah brought me here once for our treat, but you probably are learned upon the subject, and I want to know."
"I would much rather hear what you did when Sarah brought you here for your treat," he said.
"Oh! it was a very simple day," and she leaned back and laughed softly at the recollection. "Papa was very hard up at that time, you know, and we were rather poor, so we came as cheaply as we could, Sarah, Clementine, and I, and I remember there were some very snuffy men in the train--we could not go first-class, you see--and one of them rather frightened me."
"The brute!" said Hector.
"I think I was about fourteen."
"And even then perfectly beautiful, I expect," he commented to himself.
"We walked up from the station, and oh! we saw all the galleries and we ran all over the park, but we missed the way to Trianon somehow and never saw that, and when we got back here we were too tired to start again. We had only had sandwiches, you see, that we brought with us, and some funny little drinks at a caf down there," and she pointed vaguely towards the lake, "because we found we had only one franc fifty between us all. But we were so happy, and Clementine knows a great deal, and told us many things which were quite different from what was in the guide-books--but it seems so long, long ago. Do you know it must be six years." And she looked at him seriously.
"Half a lifetime!" agreed Hector, with a whimsical smile.
"Oh! you are laughing at me!" she said, and there was a cloud in the blue stars which looked up at him.
He made a movement nearer her--while his deep voice took every tone of tenderness.
"Indeed, indeed I am not--you dear little girl! I love to hear of your day. I was only smiling to think that six years ago you were a baby child, and I was then an old man in feeling--let me see, I was twenty-five, and I was in Russia."
He stopped suddenly; there were some circumstances which, sitting there beside her, he would rather not remember connected with Russia.
This was one of the peculiarities of Theodora. There was something about her which seemed to wither up all low or vicious things. It was not that she filled people with ascetic thoughts of saints and angels and their mother in heaven, only she seemed suddenly to enhance simple joys with beauty and charm.
They talked on for half an hour, and with every moment he discovered fresh qualities of sweetness and light in her gentle heart.
She was not ill educated either, but she had never speculated upon things, she took them for granted just as they were, and _Jean d'Agrve_ was probably the only awakening book she had ever read.
Hector all at once seemed to realize his mother's vision, and to understand for the first time what marriage might mean. That to possess this exquisite bit of God's finished work for his very own, to live with her in the country, at old Bracondale, to see her honored and adored, surrounded by little children--his children--would be a dream of bliss far, far beyond any dream he had ever known. A domestic, tender dream of sweetness that he had always laughed at before as a final thing when life's other joys should be over, and now it seemed suddenly to be the only heaven and completion of his soul's desire.
Then he remembered Josiah Brown with a hideous pang of pain and bitterness--and they went in to lunch.
* * * * *
Theodora was so gay! Captain Fitzgerald and Mrs. McBride were already seated when they joined them in the restaurant. Most of the other visitors had finished--it was almost two o'clock.
There was a good deal of black middle in the widow's eyes, Theodora noticed, and wondered to herself if she had had a happy and exciting hour too. Papa looked complacent and handsomer than ever, she thought. She did hope it was going well. And she wondered how they were to dispose of their afternoon.
The widow soon settled this. She had, she said, a wild desire to rush through the air for a little--she _must_ have her chauffeur go at full speed--somewhere--anywhere--her nerves needed calming! And Captain Fitzgerald had agreed to accompany her. Their destination was unknown, and they might not be back for tea, so Lord Bracondale must take the greatest care of Theodora and give her some if they did not turn up. They certainly would for dinner, but eight o'clock would be time enough for that.
When your destination is unknown you can never say how many hours it will take to get there and back, she pointed out. And no one felt inclined to argue with her about this obvious truth!
Now if Theodora had been a free unmarried girl, or a freer widow, it is highly probable fate would not have arranged this long afternoon in blissful surroundings undisturbed by any one. As it was, who knows if the goddess settled it with a smile on her lip or a tear in her eye? It was settled, at all events, and looked as if it were going to contain some moments worth remembering.
IX
"And what is your pleasure, fair queen?" Hector said, as they listened to the diminishing noise of the widow's Mercds. "We are alone, and we have the world before us. Issue your commands."
"No," said Theodora, and she pouted her red lips. "I want you to settle that. I want you to arrange for whatever you think would give me the greatest pleasure. Then I shall know if you understand me and guess what I would like."
This was the most daring speech she had ever made, and she was surprised at her own temerity.
"Very well," he said. "That means you belong to me until they return," and a thrill ran through him. "Has not your father, has not your hostess, given you into my charge? And, now you yourself have sealed the compact, we shall see if I can make you happy."
As he said the words "you belong to me," Theodora thrilled too--a sensation as of an electric shock almost quivered through her. Belonged to him--ah!--what would that mean?
He called his chauffeur, who started the automobile and drove under the covered _porte cochre_ where they stood.
Lord Bracondale had not spoken all the time he was helping her in and arranging rugs with the tenderest solicitude, but when they were settled and started--it was a coup with a great deal of glass about it, so that they got plenty of air--he turned to her.
"Now, do you know what I am going to do with you, madame? I shall only unfold my plans bit by bit, and watch your face to see if I have chosen well. I am going to take you first to the Petit Trianon, and we are going to walk leisurely through the rooms. I am not going to worry you with much sight-seeing and tourists and lessons of history, but I want you to glance at this setting of the life picture of poor Marie Antoinette, because it is full of sentiment and it will make you appreciate more the _hameau_ and her playground afterwards. Something tells me you would rather see these things than all the fine pictures and salons of the stiff chteau."
"Oh yes," said Theodora; "you have guessed well this time."
"Then here we are, almost arrived," he said, presently.
They had been going very fast, and could see the square, white house in front of them, and when they alighted at the gates she found the guardian was an old friend of Lord Bracondale's, and they were left free to wander alone in the rooms between the batches of tourists.
But every one knows the Petit Trianon, and can surmise how its beauties appealed to Theodora.
"Oh, the poor, poor queen!" she said, with a sad ring in her expressive voice, when they came to the large salon; "and she sat here and played on her harpsichord--and I wonder if she and Fersen were ever alone--and I wonder if she really