Beyond the Rocks

Mrs. Ellerwood looked at him; she understood now.

"He is in love with the white woman," she thought; "that is why he was

so anxious to dine here to-night, when Jack suggested Madrid; that is

why he stays in Paris. It is not Esclarmonde de Chartres after all! How

excited Aunt Milly will be! I must find out her name."

"She is a beautiful creature," said Jack Ellerwood, as if to himself,

while he carefully surveyed Theodora from his position at the side of

the table.

Hector Bracondale's irritation rose. Relations were tactless, and he

felt sorry he had asked them.

"You must tell me her name, Hector," pleaded Mrs. Ellerwood; "the very

white, pretty one I mean."

"Now just to punish your curiosity I shall do no such thing."

"Hector, you are a pig."

"Probably."

"And so selfish."

"Possibly."

"Why mayn't I know? You set a light to all sorts of suspicions."

"Doubly interesting for you, then."

"Provoking wretch!"

"Don't you think you would like some coffee? The waiter is trying to

hand you a cup."

Mrs. Ellerwood laughed. She knew there was no use teasing him further;

but there were other means, and she must employ them. Theodora had

become the pivot upon which some of her world might turn.

The object of this solicitude was quite unconscious of the interest she

had created. She did not naturally think she could be of importance to

any one. Had she not been the youngest and snubbed always?

The same thought came to her that was conjuring the brain of Lord

Bracondale: would there be a chance to speak to-night, or must they each

go their way in silence? He meant to assist fate if he could, but having

Monica Ellerwood there was a considerable drawback.

Mrs. McBride's party were to take their coffee in one of the bosquets

outside, and all got up from their table in a few minutes to go out.

They would have to pass the partie à trois, who were nearer the door.

Monica would take her most searching look at them, Lord Bracondale

thought; now was the time for action. So as Mrs. McBride came past with

Captain Fitzgerald, he rose from his seat and greeted her.

"You have been exceedingly mean," he whispered. "What are you going to

do for me to make up for it?"

The widow had a very soft spot in her heart for "Ce beau Bracondale," as

she called him, and when he pleaded like that she found him hard to

resist.