The Temptress Part 22

With little difficulty Hugh discovered that the house he was in search of was situated at the corner of the Place Louise, and that its facade was more imposing than that of its neighbours.

Meanwhile, seated on a low gypsy chair, in a small but elegant room, Valerie was deciphering a long letter which had been just handed to her by the man who sat near, Victor Berard.

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked the latter, twirling the needle-like points of his moustache, as she folded the paper slowly and replaced it in the envelope.

"It only shows how very near he was to bungling--the idiot! If he had, well--the results would have been too dreadful to think of."

"Matters are progressing as well as can be wished, and the disappearance has been accomplished excellently, with the exception of that one hitch--"

"Which might have sent us both to a very unfas.h.i.+onable lodging," she interrupted.

Nodding acquiescence, he replied--

"_Sapristi_! that's all very well. But you have the money; you can't grumble. Again, why need we fear the failure? You have beauty--indeed, you're the best-looking woman in Brussels. As long as you retain that charm, we need not be apprehensive."

"You pay me a pretty compliment, Victor," she laughed. "Nevertheless, I must admit my face has always been my fortune."

"And other people's misfortune, eh?" observed her companion, smiling grimly.

"Well, that's certainly one way of putting it, but you--"

"M'sieur Trethowen desires to see mademoiselle," Nanette said, for she had opened the door un.o.bserved.

"Trethowen!" gasped Victor, twisting his moustache nervously. "He must not find us together."

"No," exclaimed Valerie. "Go quickly through the garden, and out by the side door."

He had already put on his hat, and without further hesitation he waved his hand, and vanished through a door communicating with the conservatory.

"_Au revoir_," he said. "You will know how to manage him, and I will return at six to take you to the Moliere."

She went to a long mirror and hurriedly arranged her hair; then, turning to the maid, ordered her visitor to be shown in.

"I wonder what his object is in coming here," she muttered to herself, as she sank into her wicker chair, and commenced twisting her rings round her shapely fingers perplexedly. "Surely he cannot suspect! Yet the threats of that fool Egerton still ring in my ears," and she frowned thoughtfully.

When her visitor entered she rose, calm and pale, to meet him.

"So you have returned to me at last, Hugh," she said in a faltering voice, almost overcome with emotion.

"Yes, dearest," he replied, placing his arm around her waist, and drawing her closely to him. "I have come to beg forgiveness for being so rash."

"My forgiveness!" she exclaimed in a tone of surprise, looking up into his face. "Why, I have nothing really to forgive."

"I judged you too hastily, Valerie, and, now I have learned the error of my ways, I have come over here to receive your pardon."

"And I grant that freely," she said, with a happy smile, for she was unfeignedly delighted that he had returned.

"Do you know," he said, as he slowly released her, and sank into a chair beside her, "I've been unspeakably dull and miserable. By Jove! life hasn't been worth living lately."

"Why?" asked she naively.

"Because you have been absent."

"I should scarcely have thought it," observed mademoiselle mischievously. "You had Jack Egerton's model. Surely she did not object to a mild flirtation?"

"Dolly Vivian! I flirt with her!" he echoed in surprise. "No, indeed, I've never done so. She is my friend, it is true; but nothing more."

"Ah, don't tell me that, Hugh. You men are all alike. A pretty woman's face, a smile, a pair of merry eyes, and you are captivated."

"But I have not been, except by yourself," he declared, grasping her hand, and raising it reverently to his lips. "You do not know how blank and colourless my life has been without you--what an utterly miserable existence mine is when we are apart."

He spoke low and earnestly, for all the fervour of the old love had returned, and, heedless of the warnings of his friends, he was repeating a.s.surances of affection to the woman who held him in her toils for life or death. She did not reply, but, gazing trustingly into his eyes, her breast heaved convulsively.

"Tell me, shall we be the same to one another as before? Forgive me, and we shall live as if nothing had happened to mar our happiness," he urged.

"Then, you really love me still, Hugh?" she asked, in a low, tremulous voice.

"Still love you? Yes; my heart and soul are yours. I care for no other woman save yourself."

"Was it to be near me that you came here? Are you certain it was for no other reason?"

"No," he replied, puzzled at her question. "Why do you ask?"

"Out of curiosity," she stammered evasively. "I--I thought other business might, perhaps, have brought you here."

Glancing round the apartment, and recognising the elegance with which it was furnished, he complimented her upon her taste.

"Yes," she answered languidly. "This place suits me admirably. It is my home, and although I'm of a wandering disposition, and travel a good deal, I return here now and then to enjoy rest and obtain those comforts that are appreciable after hotel life. I am, perhaps, too cosmopolitan.

Well, it is my failing. Since I was a girl, I have been accustomed to travel for pleasure, and I do so now in order to get life and variety, without which I don't really believe I could exist."

"Not if you were married?"

"Ah! possibly that would be different," she said, with a rippling laugh.

"I could then take some pleasure in my home, and my husband would be my companion, whereas at present I have only Nanette, my maid. You have little idea, Hugh, of the wearying monotony of the life of women who are alone in the world. We are utterly defenceless, and must either be prudes, and lead the existence of nuns, of, if we dare go about and enjoy ourselves, we are stigmatised as fast, and looked upon as undesirable and contaminating companions. I am unconventional; I care not a jot for the opinion of the world, good or bad; and, as a natural sequence, women--many of them notorious, though married--revile me unjustly."

She uttered the words in all seriousness, and he felt compa.s.sion for her, as he knew well what she said was the truth.

"I can quite understand that your position is somewhat unenviable, Valerie; nevertheless, I have come here to-day to repeat the promise I made some time ago."

"Your promise! Why--"

"I love you dearly and will marry you, providing you will consent," he added, interrupting her.

Her head sank upon his shoulder, and she burst into tears of joy, while he kissed her fair face, and smoothed her hair tenderly.

"I promise you," he murmured, "if you become my wife you shall never regret. It is true, some say harsh things of you. I have heard gossip, but I've shut my ears to the lies of those who envy your good looks. In future, however, those who defame you shall answer to me."

She lifted her face, wet with tears, to his, and their lips met in an ardent caress.