The Mad Love Part 57

"It is not true?" she repeated.

"Who said it was true?" he asked, angrily.

Then there was a few minutes of silence between them; and Lady Marion looked at him again.

"Lance," she said, "is it true?"

Their eyes met, hers full of one eager question. His lips parted; her whole life seemed to hang on the word that was coming from his lips.

"Is it true?" she repeated.

He tried to speak falsely, he would have given much for the power to say "No." He knew that one word would content her--that she would believe it implicitly, and that she would never renew the question. Still with that fair, pure face before him--with those clear eyes fixed on him--he could not speak falsely, he could not tell a lie. He could have cried aloud with anguish, yet he answered, proudly:

"It is true, Marion."

"True?" she repeated, vacantly, "true, Lance?"

"Yes, the gossips have reported correctly; it is quite true."

But he was not prepared for the effect of the words on her. Her fair face grew pale, her tender arms released their hold and fell.

"True?" she repeated, in a low, faint voice, "true that you took Madame Vanira out for a day, and that you were seen by these people with her?"

"Yes, it is true," he replied.

And the poor child flung her arms in the air, as she cried out:

"Oh, Lance, it is a sword in my heart, and it has wounded me sorely."

CHAPTER LII.

A GATHERING CLOUD.

It was strange that she should use the same words which Leone had used.

"I cannot bear it, Lance," she said. "Why have you done this?"

He was quite at a loss what to say to her; he was grieved for her, vexed with those who told her, and the mental emotions caused him to turn angrily round to her.

"Why did you take her? What is Madame Vanira to you?" she asked.

"My dear Marion, can you see any harm in my giving madame a day's holiday and rest, whether on water or on land?"

She was silent for a minute before she answered him.

"No," she replied, "the harm lay in concealing it from me; if you had told me about it I would have gone with you."

Poor, simple, innocent Lady Marion! The words touched him deeply; he thought of the boat among the water-lilies, the beautiful, pa.s.sionate voice floating over the water, the beautiful, pa.s.sionate face, with its defiance as the words of the sweet, sad song fell from her lips.

"Lance, why did you not tell me? Why did you not ask me to go with you?

I cannot understand."

When a man has no proper excuse to make, no sensible reason to give, he takes refuge in anger. Lord Chandos did that now; he was quite at a loss what to say; he knew that he had done wrong; that he could say nothing which could set matters straight; obviously the best thing to do was to grow angry with his wife.

"I cannot see much harm in it," he said. "I should not suppose that I am the first gentleman in England who has taken a lady out for a holiday and felt himself highly honored in so doing."

"But, Lance," repeated his fair wife, sorrowfully, "why did you not take me or tell me?"

"My dear Marion, I did not think that I was compelled to tell you every action of my life, everywhere I went, everything I did, every one I see; I would never submit to such a thing. Of all things in the world, I abhor the idea of a jealous wife."

She rose from her knees, her fair face growing paler, and stood looking at him with a strangely perplexed, wondering gaze.

"I cannot argue with you, Lance," she said, gently; "I cannot dispute what you say. You are your own master; you have a perfect right to go where you will, and with whom you will, but my instinct and my heart tell me that you are wrong. You have no right to take any lady out without telling me. You belong to me, and to no one else."

"My dear Marion, you are talking nonsense," he said, abruptly; "you know nothing of the world. Pray cease."

She looked at him with more of anger on her fair face than he had ever seen before.

"Lord Chandos," she said, "is this all you have to say to me? I am told that you have spent a whole day in the society of the most beautiful actress in the world, perhaps, and when I ask for an explanation you have none to give me."

"No," he replied, "I have none."

"Lance, I do not like it," she said, slowly; "and I do not understand. I thought Madame Vanira was so good and true?"

"So she is," he replied. "You must not say one word against her."

"I have no wish; but if she is so good why should she try to take my husband from me?"

"She has not done so," he replied, angrily. "Marion, I will not be annoyed by a jealous wife."

"I am not jealous, Lance," she replied; "but when I am told such a story, and it proves to be true, what am I to do?"

"Say nothing, Marion, which is always the wisest thing a woman can do,"

he replied.

His wife gazed at him with proud indignation.

"I do not like the tone in which you speak of this; tell me frankly, is it with Madame Vanira you spend all the time which you pa.s.s away from home?"

"I shall say nothing of Madame Vanira," he replied.

She drew nearer to him; she laid one white hand on his shoulder and looked wistfully into his face.

"Lance," she said, "are we to quarrel--over a woman, too? I will not believe it. You have always been honest with me; tell me what Madame Vanira is to you?"