The Essential Elinor Glyn Collection. Glyn Elinor
_Osages again_.
DEAREST MAMMA,--I am so fearfully excited I can hardly write. Listen! We got back here late in the afternoon, as we stopped at a place by the way where the Senator had business, and while I was up in my room dressing for dinner, in the worst temper I ever remember, still feeling so furious over Jane Roose's words, a noise of quick footsteps was heard in the passage, and without even a knock someone tried the door, which was naturally locked. Agns in fear and trembling went to it, as from the tale of the night at Moonbeams, she thought, I suppose, it was another desperado. I was too cross to look round until I heard her scream: "Milor!" and then I saw a vision of Harry in the door way!!! In a grey flannel suit and a slouchy felt hat, looking just like a lovely miner.
Nothing in my life has ever given me such an emotion, Mamma. And do you know I forgot all about injured pride, or Mrs. Smith or anything, and rushed into his arms. We were both perfectly incoherent with passionate joy, and just think! There was not a word of truth in it all! That creature never was on the ship, and Harry only landed in Africa and got a cable from you saying I had started for America and he caught another steamer that was sailing that night, and gave up his lions and everything, and just flew after me, and when in New York he heard we had gone out West and Gaston was one of the party, he nearly went mad with rage, and as I told you before he would, he came out here with the intention of at least beating me and shooting the Vicomte. But when we had had hundreds of kisses, and I could stay quietly in his arms, we explained everything, and we have both said we are sorry, and I love him a thousand times more than ever, and he says he will never let me out of his sight again for the rest of our lives. And we are crazily happy, Mamma, and I can't write any more, only we are not going on to Mexico, but straight home to Valmond; and please bring Hurstbridge and Ermyntrude to meet us at Liverpool when the Lusitania gets in.
Your affectionate daughter,
ELIZABETH.
P.S.--I quite understand Aunt Maria liking a second honeymoon--even after fifty years!
HALCYONE
BY ELINOR GLYN
AUTHOR OF "THE REASON WHY," "HIS HOUR," "THREE WEEKS," ETC.
_"And now they are past the last blue headland and in the open sea; and there is nothing round them but the waves and the sky and the wind. But the waves are gentle and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender and low; for these are the days when Halcyone and Ceyx build their nest and no storms ever ruffle the pleasant summer sea. And who were Halcyone and Ceyx? Halcyone was a fairy maiden, the daughter of the beach and of the wind. And she loved a sailor-boy and married him; and none on earth were so happy as they. But at last Ceyx was wrecked; and before he could swim to the shore, the billows swallowed him up. And Halcyone saw him drowning and leapt into the sea to him; but in vain. Then the Immortals took pity on them both, and changed them into two fair sea-birds, and now they build a floating nest every year and sail up and down for ever upon the pleasant seas of Greece."_
THE HEROES, _Kingsley._
HALCYONE
CHAPTER I
Outside one of the park gates there was a little house. In the prosperous days of the La Sarthe it had been the land steward's--but when there was no longer any land to steward it had gone with the rest, and for several years had been uninhabited.
One day in early spring Halcyone saw smoke coming out of the chimney. This was too interesting a fact not to be investigated; she resented it, too--because a hole in the park paling had often let her into the garden and there was a particularly fine apple tree there whose fruit she had yearly enjoyed.
She crept nearer, a tall, slender shape, with mouse-colored hair waving down her back, and a scarlet cap pulled jauntily over her brow--the delightful feeling of adventure tingling in her veins. Yes, the gap was there, it had not been mended yet--she would penetrate and see for herself who this intruder could be.
She climbed through and stole along the orchard and up to the house. Signs of mending were around the windows, in the shape of a new board here and there in the shutters; but nothing further. She peeped over the low sill, and there her eyes met those of an old man seated in a shabby armchair, amid piles and piles of books. He had evidently been reading while he smoked a long, clay pipe.
He was a fine old man with a splendid presence, his gray hair was longer than is usual and a silvery beard flowed over his chest.
Halcyone at once likened him to Cheiron in the picture of him in her volume of Kingsley's "Heroes."
They stared at one another and the old man rose and came to the window.
Halcyone did not move.
"Who are you, little girl?" he said. "And what do you want?"
"I want to know who you are, and why you have come here?" she answered fearlessly. "I am Halcyone, you know."
The old man smiled.
"That ought to tell me everything," he said, gravely, "but unfortunately it does not! Who is Halcyone?"
"I live at La Sarthe Chase with the Aunts La Sarthe," she said proudly, as though La Sarthe Chase had been Windsor Castle--"and I have been accustomed to play in this garden. I don't like your being here much."
"I am sorry for that, because it suits me and I have bought it. But how would it be if I said you might come into the garden still and play? Would you forgive me then for being here?"
"I might," said Halcyone. "What are all these books for?"
"They are to read."
"I knew that--" and she frowned, beetling her delicate dark brows, "but why such a lot? You can never read them all."
The old man smiled.
"I have read most of them already," he said. "I have had plenty of time, you see."
"Yes, I dare say you are old," said Halcyone-- "and what are they about? I would like to know that. My books so seldom interest me."
He handed her one through the window, but it was written in Greek and she could not read it. She frowned again as she turned over the pages.
"Perhaps there is something nice in that," she said.
"Possibly."
"Well, won't you tell me what?"
"That would take a long time--suppose you come in and have tea with me, then we could talk comfortably."
"That sounds a good plan," she said, gravely. "Shall I climb through the window--I can quite easily--or would you like me to go round by the door?"
"The window will serve," said the old man.
And with one bound as light as a young kid, Halcyone was in the room.
There was a second armchair beyond the pile of books, and into that she nestled, crossing her knees and clasping her hands round them. "Now we can begin," she said.
"Tea or talk?" asked the old man.
"Why, talk, of course; there is no tea--"
"But if you rang that bell some might come."
Halcyone jumped up again and looked about for the bell. She was not going to ask where it was--she disliked stupid people herself. The old man watched her from under the penthouse of his eyebrows with a curious smile.
The bell was hidden in the carving of the mantelpiece, but she found it at last and gave it a lusty pull.
It seemed answered instantaneously by a strange-looking man,--a dark, extremely thin person with black, dull eyes.
The