LADY BETTY and her companion walked on. The crowd, still huzzaing and noisy about the victors, was dropped behind them, all its gorgeous colors knotted into one huge rosette upon the track; beyond were green meadows and the blue shadows of a grove1 of limes. The two walked slowly, Lady Betty a little in advance, her long skirts gathered in one hand, the other holding her fan, the sun and the breeze kissing the soft curves of her cheeks. Beside her, holding his hat behind his back, was Richard Trevor, his eyes on her, while hers were on the landscape; the long, level stretch of turf, the grove of limes, and farther off—veiled in golden mist—the wavy2 outlines of forest and hills. Above, the sky was blue—blue as larkspur; the air was sweet too, as if the fragrance3 of flowers floated on the soft September breeze. A flock of pigeons, with the whir of[Pg 73] many wings, rose from the ground as Betty approached, and she looked up after them and sighed.
“Is it true that the French king wears red heels to his shoes?” she asked suddenly and quite irrelevantly4.
Mr. Trevor started perceptibly, giving her a quizzical glance.
“They are frequently purple,” he replied, with perfect gravity.
“Because, I suppose, it is a royal color,” she remarked absently; “you are a Jacobite, Mr. Trevor.”
“Either my disguise is a flimsy one, or your penetration5 is great, Lady Clancarty,” he replied, with a whimsical smile; “but I’ll swear I’m not alone at Newmarket.”
Lady Betty elevated her brows a little.
“It has been frequently hinted that King William was one,” she remarked tranquilly6.
“By the Whigs out of office,” he said, with a short, hard laugh; “he is not counted one on the Continent.”
“Or in Ireland,” she said; “you were at Londonderry, of course.”
“There were two sides to the wall at Londonderry, my lady,” he replied; “I was on one—I’ll admit that.”
[Pg 74]“It is safe not to be explicit,” she said smiling; “you are an Irishman, a Papist, and a Jacobite,” she told off each point on her fingers, “and you are from Munster.”
“Precisely,” said Mr. Trevor, with great composure; “you have nailed me to the wall, madam; I am a sinner of the blackest dye, a subject for the gallows7.”
“So I supposed,” she said cheerfully, nodding her head at him, “and being all these things, and from the Continent, can you tell me—” for the first time she hesitated, stopped short, looking at the turf under her daintily shod feet, her face crimson8.
He waited, smiling, composed, watchful9; not helping10 her by a word or sign, and she could not read his eyes when she looked into them.
“Do you know Lord Clancarty?” she asked bluntly.
He took time to consider, studying, meanwhile, every detail of her charming, ingenuous11 face and perfect figure.
“I have met him,” he said deliberately12, “in Dublin and in Paris.” Betty’s agitation13 was quite apparent, but she commanded herself and looked up bravely.
“He is my husband,” she said simply.
[Pg 75]Mr. Trevor smiled involuntarily.
She made an impatient gesture, laughing and blushing.
“Tell me how he looks?” she asked; “I have never seen him since he was fifteen and I eleven. Is he a bugbear? They would have me believe so.”
“On the contrary, I have always thought him handsome, my lady,” Mr. Trevor said, smiling imperturbably15, “and altogether the most companionable man I know.”
“Indeed!” she exclaimed; “yet you told me you had only met him—twice.”
“In two places,” corrected Mr. Trevor quite unmoved, “but frequently. He’s a fine man, madam, take my word for it; I love him like a brother; he has only one fault, madam, one sin, and that, I’ll admit, is unpardonable.”
“And that,” replied Mr. Trevor calmly, “is the fact that he has been able to live for fourteen years without his wife.”
Lady Clancarty flushed angrily, and then she laughed that delicious, mirthful laugh of hers.
[Pg 76]“He has existed, sir,” she corrected him, “because he never knew how delightful18 Lady Clancarty is.”
“Exactly,” replied Trevor, “a mere19 existence; life uncrowned by love—such love as he ought to have won, confound him—is not life. He might as well be a turnip20.”
“So I have always thought,” she replied, with a charming smile; “but then, you know, Mr. Trevor, he might not have been able to win it.”
“Not win it!” he exclaimed, “not win it, when he is a husband to begin with. By Saint Patrick, madam, I’d cut his acquaintance for life! Not win it? What cannot a man do under the inspiration of a beautiful and noble woman? Kingdoms have been won and lost for them. If Troy fell for Helen, an empire might well fall for a woman as beautiful and far more womanly. I’d run Clancarty through, my lady, if he were not willing to die for his true love. Irishmen are not made of such poor stuff. No, no, he would win it, never fear.”
Lady Betty’s chin was up and her eyes travelling over the green turf again.
“An idle boast, sir,” she said carelessly; “no woman would be lightly won after years of neglect.”
[Pg 77]“Nor should be,” he replied, in a deep tone of emotion, “nor should be! By the Virgin21, Clancarty ought to go on his knees from Munster to Althorpe in penitence22.”
“Faith, what would he do about the Channel, Mr. Trevor?” she asked wickedly.
“Swim it, madam,” he replied promptly23; “a true man and a lover would not drown—with such a saint enshrined before him.”
“A Protestant saint for a Papist penitent,” remarked Lady Betty smiling; “what a poor consolation24.”
“Oh!” she said and her brows went up.
“There is one excuse, though,” he went on, “one—or I would never speak to Donough Macarthy again.”
“Oh, there is one, then?” she asked doubtfully.
“One—yes,” he replied gravely; “he is a proscribed26 exile, madam, this king of yours has excepted him from the Act of Grace; he cannot return except, indeed, to the Tower and the block. But, after all, to lose a head is less than to lose a heart.”
Lady Betty laughed.
[Pg 78]“Only one can recover a heart,” she said wickedly, “but a head—I never heard of one that was put on after the headsman.”
“Nor I,” he admitted, “but, after all, one can die but once.”
“And one can love many times,” suggested Betty; “I have heard that my Lord Clancarty’s heart is tender.”
“Mere fables27, madam,” he replied, with cool mendacity; “his heart is made for one image only and would keep that—to eternity28.”
“His must be a valuable and rare heart,” Lady Clancarty remarked demurely29, “too good, sir, to exchange for a human one.”
“Verily too good to give without a fair exchange, madam,” he replied, smiling audaciously; “nor will Clancarty cast it by the wayside. I know him for a man who will love and be loved again. He’s no moonstruck youth, my lady; when he gives he will demand a return.”
She carried her head proudly. “He should have to win it,” she said.
“He would win it,” Trevor retorted boldly, “and he would hold it. Pshaw, madam, I despise a milksop, and so do you!”
“You are overbold in your assertions, sir,” Betty said, stopping short and looking back[Pg 79] over the heath, shading her eyes with her fan.
“Bold for a friend, my lady,” he said gracefully30, “bold for the absent who has none to plead his cause.”
Lady Betty laughed.
“Do you see that whirling, frantic31 thing yonder?” she asked, pointing; “’tis my Lady Sunderland’s India shawl; she is waving to me. We must go back, sir; she thinks I venture too near the lions.”
“We must go back, it seems, since you command it,” he replied regretfully, “but I may see Lady Clancarty again? I may speak to her of—her husband?”
Betty hesitated for the twentieth part of a second and then she smiled.
“We are at the Lion’s Head,” she said, “and I shall receive my friends after supper—but do not talk of Lord Clancarty.”
He bowed profoundly, and she moved on, for the India shawl was waving frantically32 now and Savile and the others were coming toward them.
“I thank you for the privilege,” said Richard Trevor with his daring smile; “we will talk of Lady Clancarty.”
But Betty answered not a word; she walked[Pg 80] back across the heath, proudly silent, nor did she cast a single relenting glance behind her—and thus failed to see the quizzical expression in his eyes.
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1
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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3
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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irrelevantly
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| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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6
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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8
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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9
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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11
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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15
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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16
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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18
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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19
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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30
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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