The Tiger Lily Part 27

"Ah!" he said, with a half-laugh, as, stirred now to the deepest depths, he bent forward trying to penetrate her disguise, but without avail; "can you punish me so cruelly as that for loving you? Well, you have made me yours, and it is my fate. Better death than the misery I have suffered, the despair of losing you and not seeing you again."

"It is a mockery!" she cried, and her voice now was strangely altered.

"A man cannot love a woman whose face he has not seen."

"You know that is not true," he whispered, as he still advanced, and she now began to retreat--"you know I love you with all my soul. I have told you so, and you know it in your heart."

"Keep back!" she cried huskily, as she retreated, keeping the knife-point toward his breast.

"No! Remove your veil."

"Bah!" she cried contemptuously, and with her voice resuming its former tone. "Go, monsieur; dwell upon and love your picture when I am gone."

"No; I love you, the living, breathing embodiment. Now, if I die for it, I will see your face."

He stretched out one hand, and touched her veil, but it was tightly knotted behind her head, and with her left hand she caught his fingers and held them firmly, their warm contact sending a thrill through every nerve.

At the same moment, he felt the point of the knife touch his breast, but he did not shrink, only struggled to free his hand.

Then, as if moved by the same impulse, they remained motionless, gazing into each other's eyes, and he felt her warm breath upon his lips.

"Then you do love me?" she whispered in a voice that, in its soft pa.s.sionate tones, made every fibre vibrate in strange music to the melody of her utterance.

"More than life," he whispered back. "You see."

A low mocking laugh came from her lips as she loosened her grasp, flung up her hands, and the knife fell far away upon the floor. Then, with a sudden movement, as he seized her waist and drew her to him, she threw herself back, s.n.a.t.c.hed off the veil, flung it upon the dais, and clasped her arms about his neck.

"Valentina!--You!"

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE CONTRETEMPS.

A mingling of rage, pa.s.sion, disappointment, and delight swept over Dale at the revelation. One moment he wondered at his blindness in not divining long before that it was she; then at her daring recklessness, and the skill with which she had played her part, deceiving him completely to the very end.

And as she gazed in his eyes, clasped then in his arms, yielding as he did to what he told himself again was fate, a mystery which he could not unravel, he asked himself the question, did he love her or did he not?

His pa.s.sion had been for another woman, and paradoxically it was she from whom he had literally lied, and from whom, had she come openly, he would have turned in disgust.

And yet how beautiful she was. What love and pa.s.sion beamed from the half-closed eyes that sought his, as her lips murmured words that told him she was his at last, as he was hers, her very own; while, mastered by her tenderness, he found no words then of angry reproach or blame.

"Venus victrix." She had brought him to her feet, but there was no sound of triumph in her tones. Every word was a caress, and he found himself wondering that he could ever have treated her with the coldness he had shown.

"I knew you loved me," she murmured in his ear, "and that in your mad belief in what you told yourself was your duty, you were punishing yourself and me. It was a mere schoolboy friendship pledged years ago, against which nature rebelled. For the first time in my unhappy life I knew what it was to love, and knowing, as a woman soon divines, that you loved me, I felt a new joy in my heart that I was so beautiful, and that it pleased you, the only man I ever felt that I cared for--that I did love, for I knew that you were mine as I was yours. And so I had no hesitation about running all the risks I have, deceiving even Lady Grayson, who watches me like a cat. I said in my heart that I would dare all, even to degrading myself--no: it was no degradation, for it was for the sake of him I loved. But tell me now; you did know me from the beginning?"

"I swear I had not the least idea," he said angrily.

"You had not," she sighed; and then mockingly, "and, cruel to the last, you began to love another as you thought. I saw it growing from the first, and for a minute it made me angry, and ready to turn and revile you, instead of carrying on the deceit; but a feeling of intense joy ran through me, for was not all your loving pa.s.sion for me--was I not winning you to confess the love you always did feel, though blindly thinking that you had conquered self? You did love me--did you not?"

"Yes, I always loved you," he whispered, "and I fought so hard for both our sakes."

"And lost," she said with a laugh. "I have won. No, no," she whispered caressingly, "don't repulse me now. You are so much to me. But yes, if you will. I do not mind. Strike your poor slave if you wish; she will never murmur or complain. Your blows would be like tender caresses to me now, for your words have dragged me forth from an age of misery and despair into a new life of hope and brightness and joy. You told me you loved me with all your soul."

"No, no," he cried angrily, in his last struggle for truth and honour; "it is not true. It was all an imaginary pa.s.sion for an imaginary being."

"Am I an imaginary being?" she whispered, as she wreathed her arms about him and drew him to her breast. "No, no; it was all a solemn truth, the outspeaking of your heart to the only woman you love. You could not lie to me, my hero--my idol. What is the world to us, Armstrong? You cannot retract your words. I have won you--my own--my own. You can never leave me now."

As those words left her lips, Dale started from her arms, for a carriage had stopped, and a heavy double knock resounded through the house.

Valentina stood listening as Dale crossed rapidly to the door, unlocked it, and returned, after relocking it, silently.

"Well?" she said calmly, "a visitor? Send him away."

"Your husband," he whispered.

"Bah!" she cried contemptuously. "The man the world calls my husband-- the wretch who bought me as he would some trinket that gratified his eye."

"But the risk--the scandal," he whispered. "For your sake--there, dearest, for your sake," he whispered, as he clasped her to his breast.

"Yes, you do love me," she said softly.

"There, quick! in there! He must not know."

"And why?" she said calmly, as she clung to him. "I do not fear him; and as for you," she cried, with a look of pride, "you are brave and strong. Let him come: kill him as you would some wretched snake."

He gazed at her half in wonder, half in horror, as she laughed mockingly, but there was a look of intense hatred and disgust in her eyes which told him how truly earnest were her words--how great her loathing for this man.

At that moment there was a tapping at the door, and Dale crossed to it quickly.

"Yes?" he said.

"This gent would like to see you, sir," came in Keren-Happuch's voice, and a card was shot under the door.

He caught it up, and hesitated a moment.

"Not at home," he said.

"Please, sir, I said as you was."

"Then show him up," said Dale desperately, and darting across to where Valentina stood, he pointed to the inner door.

"Quick!" he cried.

"For your sake, yes," she said, smiling calmly enough; but as he threw open the door, she flung one arm about his neck, and pressed her lips to his before he closed it upon her.

Then crossing quickly, he unfastened the other, caught up palette and brush, and dragged his great canvas round with its face to the wall.

He had not a moment to spare, for as he faced round, firm and defiant now, ready for anything that might come, Keren-Happuch entered, looked round wide-eyed and wondering for the model, and held the door wide for the Conte to enter.

Her position and the glance she gave round were not lost upon Armstrong, who frowned at her so severely that she hurried out.