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Beyond the Rocks

Page 79

"Poor Hector has enough of them from mother," she explained, when Monica

Ellerwood asked her once why she was so cold. "And men don't care for

those sort of things, except from some one else's sister or wife."

"Dear old boy!" was all she said as he came in. "I am glad to see you

back."

Then in a moment or two they went down to dinner, talking of various

things. And all through it, while the servants were in the room, she

prattled about Paris and their friends and the gossip of the day; and

she had a shocking cold in her head, too, and might well have been

forgiven for being dull.

But when they were at last alone, back in the little sitting-room, she

looked at him hard, and her voice, which was rather deep like his, grew

full of tenderness as she asked: "What is it, Hector? Tell me about it

if I can help you."

He got up and stood with his back to the wood fire, which sparkled in

the grate, comforting the eye with its brightness, while the wind and

rain moaned outside.

"You can't help me, Anne; no one can," he said. "I have been rather

badly burned, but there is nothing to be done. It is my own fault--so

one must just bear it."

"Is it the--eh--the Frenchwoman?" his sister asked, gently.

"Good Lord, no!"

"Or the American Monica came back so full of?"

"The American? What American? Surely she did not mean my dear Mrs.

McBride?"

"I don't know her name," Anne said, "and I don't want you to say a thing

about it, dear, if I can't help you; only it just grieves me to see you

looking so sad and distrait, so I felt I must try if there is anything I

can do for you. Mother has been on thorns and dying of fuss over this

Frenchwoman and the diamond chain--("How the devil did she hear about

that?" thought Hector)--until Monica came back with a tale of your

devotion to an American."

"One would think I was eighteen years old and in leading-strings still,

upon my word," he interrupted, with an irritated laugh. "When will she

realize I can take care of myself?"

"Never," said Lady Anningford, "until you have married Morella

Winmarleigh; then she would feel you were in good hands."

He laughed again--bitterly this time.

"Morella Winmarleigh! I would not be faithful to her for a week!"

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