His Hour

And even now with her hand in his, and the knowledge that soon she

would be his Princess, there was no triumph or joy, only the sick sense

of humiliation she felt. Passion, and its result--necessity--not love,

had brought about this situation.

So she stood there in silence. It required the whole force of Gritzko's

will to prevent him from folding her shrinking pitiful figure in his

strong arms, and raining down kisses and love words upon her. But the

stubborn twist in his nature retained its hold. No, that glorious

moment should come with a blaze of sunlight when all was won, when he

had made her love him in spite of everything.

Meanwhile nothing but reserved homage, and a settling of details.

"You will let the marriage take place before Lent, won't you?" he said,

dropping her hand.

And Tamara answered dully.

"I will marry you as soon as you wish," and she turned and sat down.

He leant on the mantlepiece and looked at her. He understood perfectly

the reason which made her consent to any date--and he smiled with some

strange powerful emotion--and yet his eye had a whimsical gleam.

"You are afraid that something can happen--isn't it?" he said. "Well,

I shall be most pleased when that day comes."

But poor Tamara could not bear this--the crystalizing of her fears!

With a stifled cry, she buried her face in the cushions. He did not

attempt to comfort her--though he could hardly control his longing to

do so. Instead of which he said gravely, "I suppose you must

communicate with your family? They will come here perhaps for the

wedding? You have not to ask any one's consent by the laws of your

country, have you?--being a widow."

Tamara with a shamed crimson face half raised her head.

"I am free to do as I choose," she said, and she looked down in crushed

wretchedness. "Yes, I suppose they will come to the wedding."

"Lent is such an excellent excuse," he went on. "And all this society

is accustomed to my doing as I please, so there will be no great wonder

over the haste--only I am sorry if it inconveniences you--such hurried

preparation."

"How long is it before Lent?" Tamara asked without interest.

"Just under a month--almost four weeks--shall the wedding take place in

about a fortnight? Then we can go south to the sun to spend our

honeymoon."

"Just as you will;" Tamara agreed in a deadly resigned voice. "I am

always confused with the dates--the difference between the English and

Russian--will you write down what it will be that I may send it to my

father?"