The Temptress Part 23

"Yes, I love you dearly, Hugh," she declared, trying to subdue her emotion. "This day is one of the happiest of my life. If we are married, I swear I will be a true wife to you, notwithstanding the calumnies you have heard."

Thus, after months of estrangement, Hugh Trethowen again fell an easy prey to her fatal power of fascination; and he, blind and headstrong, saw her only as a beautiful woman, who was unhappy, and who loved him.

Yet it has been the same through ages. Men, under the spell of a daughter of Eve, a temptress who is more than pa.s.sing fair, become weak and impressionable as children, and are ruled absolutely by the woman they wors.h.i.+p, be she good or evil.

Until the sunset streamed into the pretty room, and the silver bells of the dainty ormolu clock chimed six, they sat together undisturbed. Many were the pledges of undying affection they exchanged; then he left, promising to call next day.

When he had gone, Valerie reseated herself, and gave herself up to one of those debauches of melancholy in which she sometimes indulged; for, after all, she was not entirely devoid of sentiment.

Could Hugh have overheard the conversation between Victor and the woman who was his affianced wife an hour later, he would, however, scarcely have congratulated himself upon the result of the interview.

Victor Berard and Valerie were together in a hired brougham on their way to the Theatre Moliere, where they had previously secured a box.

"So you are friends again, eh?" Victor was saying, laughing. "Well, I must congratulate you upon your wonderful tact and diplomacy. The manner in which you have acted in leaving him to follow you here has allayed suspicion, and as long as you can exercise your power over him, we have nothing to fear as to the ultimate success of our plan."

"It was as good as a comedy," declared she, laughing heartily. "I told him how lonely I was, and did the emotional dodge--squeezed a tear or two, just to add to the realism--and it brought him to the point at once. You should have been there; you would have been highly amused, for he's such a believing idiot, that I can do just as I like with him."

"You're a clever girl, Valerie. With all your airs and graces, I believe you'd deceive the Evil One himself, if it was to your own interest to do so."

"I don't know whether to regard that as a compliment or not," she remarked merrily, as she drew her opera cloak more closely around her shoulders, and leaned back in the carriage listlessly. "I suppose, however, from our point of view, the amount of deceit and craftiness I display in dealing with him will secure the more or less successful issue of our scheme."

"If he knew everything, our position would not be a very enviable one, would it?"

"Scarcely. But, you see, my dear Victor, he doesn't know all, and will not, unless Egerton peaches, which he dare not do on account of his own neck. Therefore, we are quite safe, and can negotiate the little affair without interruption."

"I believe that you really care for the fellow a little--just a little,"

her companion said, with a sarcastic laugh.

"And supposing that I did? I am my own mistress and can act as I please," returned she, a trifle annoyed.

"_Bien_! you know best how to manage him, for you've had experience. I only urge you to be careful, and avoid any sentimental humbug."

"Bah! I want none of your advice," was all she replied, and a long silence ensued, which was not broken until the carriage drew up at the door of the theatre.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

DOLLY'S INDISCRETION.

In London, evening was gradually creeping on. The mellow light that had penetrated into the studio in Fitzroy Square was fast fading, still Jack Egerton worked on in silence, glancing constantly across at the woman who sat motionless before him, straining her eyes over a novel she held in her hand.

Frequently he paused, and, stepping back a few paces, examined the effect of his work with a critical eye, comparing it with the original.

Then he returned and retouched the picture again and again, until at last, after much perseverance, he apparently obtained the exact effect he desired. The picture was certainly attractive, and, although incomplete, yet fully sustained the artist's reputation for faithful delineation of the female form. It was a representation of Dolly Vivian reclining on a silken divan, attired in the flimsy gauzes, with rows of sequins across her forehead, heavy bangles upon her wrists and ankles, and her light brown hair, unbound, falling negligently about her shoulders. One tiny crimson slipper had fallen off, revealing a well-shaped naked foot, the other being bent under her as she lay with one bare arm flung over her head.

Her att.i.tude of languor and repose among her cus.h.i.+ons added to the Oriental character of the picture, and the richness of the silk with which the couch was covered, enhanced her beauty.

He had christened the picture, "The Sultan's Favourite."

While he worked she always preserved perfect silence. It was their rule. For hours she would sit scarcely moving a muscle, her attention engaged by a newspaper, a novel, or some fancy needlework, unless, perhaps, he addressed her, asking an opinion or advice. Then she would usually reply briefly and to the point, and resume her reading without disturbing her pose in the smallest degree.

Beside her, on a little inlaid pearl table, stood the cup of tea Mrs.

O'Shea had brought her an hour before, but which had been left almost untasted, so absorbed was she in her book. She did not notice that the artist had laid aside his palette, and was cleaning his brushes, until he exclaimed,--

"That will do for to-day, Dolly. You must be awfully tired and cramped, for we've had an unusually long spell."

His voice recalled her to consciousness. Stretching both arms above her head, she gave a stifled yawn, and slowly rose from her couch with a languid grace. Slipping her foot into the shoe, she stepped down to where he was standing.

"Why, what's the time?" she asked, noticing it was growing dusk.

"Half-past six," he replied. "I've an engagement to dine at the Vagabond Club at the Holborn at seven, therefore I haven't much time to lose. By Jove!" he added admiringly, "you look absolutely bewitching, my little _houri_. If Hugh could only see you now, 'pon my honour he'd go down on his knees and propose straight away."

"You think so, do you?" she asked artlessly, laughing and glancing down at her gauzy dress, a fair, bright-eyed odalisque. Then she grew serious, and examined the picture. "You've certainly made very good progress this afternoon with everything except the hand. The high light is scarcely perfect," she added, fixing her gaze upon the canvas, and moving across the studio to study the effect from the opposite direction.

"I must finish that to-morrow," the artist said, as he carefully wiped a small brush, and placed it aside. "The light has not been good for the last hour or more."

"The fingers, too, want retouching. They look just a trifle too stiff,"

she continued, with the air of a critic.

"Yes, I have noticed that. But I must now go and make myself presentable, for I haven't a moment to lose. Run and dress yourself, there's a good girl."

Already she was plaiting her hair, and coiling it deftly upon her head.

"Very well," she said, and tripped lightly away; but, losing a slipper in her walk, she was compelled to stop and recover it.

Then she disappeared into the small room adjacent, sacred to her use for purposes of dressing, and sometimes of resting after the fatigue of posing for prolonged periods.

Egerton, who laughed over the refractory slipper, and chaffed her good-humouredly, declaring that she let it slip off in order to attract his attention to the smallness of her foot, cleaned his palette, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and also left the studio.

When alone in her room, Dolly drew from her pocket a letter in a firm, masculine hand, which she had received at her home before leaving that morning.

"An evening at the Empire will perhaps brighten me up. At all events, it will be a change," she thought, after she had glanced over the note.

"Besides, what harm is there? I don't care two pins for the fellow, but--n.o.body cares for me," she added, with a little disconsolate sigh.

Replacing the note in its envelope, she quickly divested herself of her transparent garments, and a.s.sumed a more unromantic and conventional attire. Having finished, she went to Mrs. O'Shea's room to have her usual chat before returning home.

To-night, however, she did not remain long, for almost as soon as Jack Egerton had left the house she also followed.

The clocks were striking half-past seven as she entered Victoria Station, and was joined by a tall, dark man in evening dress, who raised his hat, smiled, and grasped her hand warmly. She had met him for the first time a fortnight before. While travelling in a train between Clapham and Waterloo he had spoken to her, and she being nothing loth to a mild flirtation, an acquaintance soon sprang up between them. Already they had spent several evenings together, and she had found him a very pleasant companion. Dolly Vivian was essentially a _fin de siecle_ girl. Although admitting in her own mind that to dine and visit music halls with a man about whom she knew almost nothing was scarcely proper, yet the cause of her sudden longing for pleasure was not far to seek.

Since Hugh's departure for Brussels she had been gloomy and despondent, for it had been proved to her beyond doubt that he cared nothing for her, but was madly in love with the voluble foreign woman, who seemed to exercise a power over him that was incomprehensible. She had bidden farewell to the man she loved with every fibre of her being, and was now growing world-weary and careless. Her sister had died a year before, and she now found life in a mean, gloomy lodging, with her aged mother, very lonely and dull. In this spirit she met Henry Mansell, her new acquaintance, and discovered that the pleasures of variety entertainments drove away her sad thoughts. Her Bohemian nature longed to penetrate into phases of society hitherto forbidden to her, and she looked upon this as an opportunity for gratifying it. Egerton, who admired both her beauty and her many sterling qualities, frequently took her to concerts and theatres, but as their friends.h.i.+p was purely platonic, and, as during the years of their acquaintance he had never hinted at affection, his companions.h.i.+p at places of entertainment had become monotonous. Mansell, who flattered her, indulged her whims, and paid her those delicate attentions that women love, was more to her taste in her present state of mind. He spent his money freely upon her, and appeared infatuated with her beauty, while she, neither inexperienced nor _gauche_, was content that he should entertain her.

Briefly, she was but a London girl of to-day, a single example of thousands of others who have a _penchant_ for fast life, and who gratify it without overstepping the bounds--who rub shoulders with the _demi-monde_, but who are not of it. True they copy the "creature" in her clothes, her appearance, and even her manners, but the imitation is due to the fact that to be considered a trifle "fast" is alas! nowadays considered good form.

Dolly's movements that evening were scarcely those of the modest retiring girl she really was, and would have caused the artist much surprise had he been watching her.

From Victoria they drove to a cafe in Regent Street, where they dined together, walking thence along Coventry Street to the Empire Theatre.

After half an hour in the stalls they went upstairs to the circle promenade, that recognised resort of the _jeunesse doree_, and strolled up and down among the gay crowd. The brilliant light, the dreamy music of the ballet, and the ever-s.h.i.+fting figures around, combined, perhaps, with the wine she had taken, exhilarated her.

Among the crowd of men who pa.s.sed up and down, there was one who watched them closely, but un.o.bserved. A dozen times he sauntered past, cigar in mouth and hands in pocket, as if merely killing time like the others.

Yet, had Dolly glanced up at the opportune moment, she would have seen meaning glances exchanged between her companion and the man who was keeping observation upon them so mysteriously.