Beyond the Rocks

"Shall we walk down to the polo-field, Mrs. Brown?" he said, and she

gladly acquiesced and started with him.

If she had been a practised coquette she could not have done anything

more to fan the flame of Hector's passion.

Lady Harrowfield had detained him on the top of the steps, and he saw

her go off with the Crow and was unable to rush after them.

And when at last he was free he felt almost drunk with passion.

He had learned of Josiah's intended departure on the morrow, and that

Theodora would join him again on the Thursday, and his mind was made up.

On Wednesday night he would take her away with him to Italy. She should

never belong to Josiah any more. She was his in soul and mind already,

he knew, and she should be his in body, too, and he would cherish and

love and protect her to the end of his life.

Every detail of his plan matured itself in his brain. It only wanted her

consent, and that, when opportunity should be given him to plead his

cause, he did not greatly fear would be refused.

Hitherto he had ever restrained himself when alone with her, had

dominated his desire to make love to her; had never once, since Paris,

given way to passion or tender words during their moments together.

But he remembered that hour of bliss on the way from Versailles; he

remembered how she had thrilled, too, how he had made her feel and

respond to his every caress.

Yes--she was not cold, his white angel!

He was playing in the scratch team of the polo match, and the wild

excitement of his thoughts, coursing through his blood, caused him to

ride like a mad thing.

Never had he done so brilliantly.

And Theodora, while she was every now and then convulsed with fear for

him, had moments of passionate admiration.

The Crow remained at her side in the tent. He knew Hector would not be

jealous of him, and the instinct of the brink of calamity was strong

upon him, from the look in Theodora's eyes.

He used great tact--he turned the conversation to Anne and the children,

and then to Lady Bracondale and Hector's home, all in a casual, abstract

way, and he told her of Lady Bracondale's great love for her son, and of

her hopes that he would marry soon, and how that Hector would be the

last of his race--for Evermond Le Mesurier did not count--and many

little tales about Bracondale and its people.

It was all done so wisely and well; not in the least as a note of

warning. And all he said sank deep into Theodora's heart. She had never

even dreamed of the plan which was now matured in Hector's brain--of

going away with him. He, as really a lover, was not for her, that was a

foregone conclusion. It was the fear of she knew not what which troubled

her. She was too unsophisticated and innocent to really know--only that

to be with him now was a continual danger; soon she knew she would not

be able to control herself, she must be clasped in his arms.