The Lady Paramount

by Henry Harland

  XVII

  Anthony had passed, I imagine, the longest hour and a half that he hadever passed, or will ever be likely to pass: the longest, the mostagitated, the most elated, the most impatient.

  Could he regard himself as accepted? Well, certainly, as the nextthing to it. And, in any case, she had confessed that she cared forhim.

  "I never meant to let you know I did."

  Oh, he heard it again and again. Again and again her eyes met his, asthey had met them at that consummate moment, discovering her soul tohim. Again and again he knelt before her, and kissed her hands, warmand soft, and sweet with that faint perfume which caused cataclysms inhis heart.

  He went home, he went in to luncheon. Somehow he must wear out thetime till three o'clock.

  "Come back at three o'clock--and I will tell you something."

  What had she to tell him? What would he hear when he went back atthree o'clock? Here was a question for hope and fear to play about.

  Adrian prattled merrily over the luncheon table. I wonder how many ofhis words Anthony took in.

  After luncheon he tramped about the park, counting the slowminutes,--kissing her hands, looking into her eyes, racking his brainwith speculations as to what she might have to tell him, hoping,fearing, and counting the long slow minutes. And his tug at Susanna'sdoorbell coincided with the very first stroke of three from herbilliard-room clock.

  His throat was dry, his pulses pounded, his knees all but knockedtogether under him, as he followed the manservant across the hall, intoher presence.