fascinating.Small-featured, hers was a delicately-moulded oval face with pointedchin and pouting lips, while at the back of her well-poised head, hermaid had deftly coiled her wealth of dark-brown hair, wherein a diamondaigrette glittered. Her smart gown was of pale pink chine silk,patterned in green and darker pink. The coat bodice of darker pinkmoire boasted diamond buttons, kilted frills of ivory lace, the sleevesof kilted pale green chiffon, and a large bow of green chiffon withdraped ends to the waist over a jabot of ivory lace.
Many turned and looked at her as they passed. The glow of excitementand success burned brightly in her cheeks, and no one accused Dora ofusing rouge. Lady Stretton eyed us viciously once or twice;nevertheless, Jack held in conversation the girl he loved, and theylaughed happily together. He was telling us of an amusing incident thathad occurred during the exercise of the troopers on Hounslow Heath thatmorning, and I was feeling myself de trop when Dora, looking upsuddenly, exclaimed:
"Why, here's Mabel!"
Turning quickly I found her elder sister, the Countess of Fyneshade, ina marvellous creation in yellow, leaning over my chair.
"I've come across to talk to you, Mr Ridgeway," she exclaimed, smiling."I saw that Jack had quite monopolised Dora. Their public love-makingis really becoming a scandal." Then she seated herself in a dimly-litcorner close by, and motioned me to a chair near her.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE COUNTESS OF FYNESHADE.
Three years Dora's senior, the Countess was dark, strikingly handsome,an accomplished horsewoman, and accredited one of the smartest women inSociety. Wedded to an elderly peer, she flirted outrageously, andalways had one or two younger cavaliers in her train. Fyneshade wasscarcely ever seen with his wife, and many were the stories afloatregarding the serious differences existing between them. Outwardly,however, the Countess was always gay, witty, and brilliant. Shedisplayed exquisite taste, and men voted her "capital company." It istrue that beside her pretty women seemed plain and middle-aged, andwell-dressed women looked dowdy, but since her marriage she had becomejust a trifle too smart for my taste.
Dora was no doubt pleased that her sister had taken me off, so that shemight exchange confidences with Jack, but I confess I was not one of thedrivelling crowd that admired Fyneshade's wife.
When I had known her at Blatherwycke, in the days before herpresentation, she had been as frank and merry as her sister, but sinceher union with the Earl she had sadly changed, acquiring anartificiality and a penchant for flirtation, apparently living only tobe flattered and admired. True, she moved in one of the most selectcircles, and no really smart house-party was complete without her; but,knowing her as intimately as I did, it was not surprising perhaps that Ihad long ago arrived at the conclusion that her gaiety and recklessnesswere feigned, and I felt some sorrow for her.
She was lounging back talking nonsense at the highest possible speed,for ever exchanging greetings and salutations in the same breath, and asI calmly contemplated her I wondered whether her domestic unhappinesswas the sole cause of the secret trouble which she strove to mask.
"Jack and Dora are really too absurd," she was saying, glancing over tothem. "They are childishly fond of one another, but what the resultwill be I dread to think."
"The result? Why, marriage," I said laughing.
She shrugged her shoulders, causing the diamonds at her white throat tosparkle, elevated her dark arched brows, and exclaimed:
"Of course Jack is popular, and has a fair income, and everybody likeshim, but Ma is absolutely determined that Dora shall marry a title."
"Which means a loveless union with an elderly husband, and no happinesswithin her own home--eh?"
She looked at me inquiringly, and her lips quivered slightly.
"You are cruel, Stuart," she answered seriously. "You mean that I am anillustration of the victim of a loveless marriage."
I nodded. Then I said: "We are such old acquaintances, Mabel, that Ifeel myself permitted to speak candidly. I have watched you for a longtime, and I know that you do not, you cannot love Fyneshade; you areunhappily married, and all the pleasure of life lies beyond your ownhome. Gossips' tongues try to wound your reputation--well, that's notmy affair, but--"
"Gossips' tongues!" she echoed hoarsely. "What care I for the lies ofscandalmongers? True, men admire me, flatter me, and say pretty thingsthat please me, but surely I am mistress of my own actions? If I choseto flirt with my coachman it would be of no concern to anybody exceptFyneshade."
"You misconstrue my meaning," I said quietly. "It was my intention toask you whether you would desire Dora to lead a life similar to yours,or whether you would allow her to seek happiness with the man sheloves."
In hesitation she opened and closed her fan. At last, in a harsh,strained voice, quite unusual to her, she answered:
"Now that you have spoken so plainly, Stuart, I am compelled to admitthe truth," and with a sigh she continued: "You are quite right when yousay that mine was a loveless marriage, but even you cannot imagine howbitter is my misery. Once I was as happy as my sister there, andbelieved that I could love a man as devotedly as she does Jack, but mymother led me to believe that wealth brought love, and I sacrificedmyself to rescue her from her creditors. The result has been three longyears of wretchedness and duplicity, of sorrow, misery, and despair.Wealth and luxury are mine, it is true, and my diamonds are the envy ofthe feminine half of London, but--but I have no happiness, no object inlife, no love. I hate everything, and most of all I hate myself."
"And why do you hate yourself?" I asked sympathetically.
"For reasons known only to myself," she answered evasively. "Ah! youlittle dream, Stuart, what a life mine is--at least, the life I amleading now. Another year of it will kill me, or drive me mad."
"Am I then to understand by your words that there is truth in thisgossip about Prince Starikoff and yourself at Royat?" I askedseriously.
She drew a deep breath and bit her lip. I saw I had approached adelicate subject. Her words had aroused my suspicions that there wassome foundation for the scandal freely circulated regarding a fracasthat had taken place at the little French watering-place of Royat, amonth or so before, between Fyneshade and a Russian Prince namedStarikoff.
"You have no right, Stuart, to question me upon my private affairs," shesaid frigidly. "_Les calomnies n'ennuient jamais_. I know the Prince,it is true, but I had no intention that my words should convey themeaning you choose to put upon them, and I have no wish that we shouldpursue the subject further."
"I bow to your desire, of course," I said. "My sole object in speakingto you thus was to urge you to plead Jack's cause with your mother. Iknow well enough that Lord Wansford admires Dora, and that Lady Strettonlooks upon him with favour. But surely his is an unenviable reputation.If you were a man I could speak more plainly, but to you I can only saythat I would never allow a sister of mine to become his wife. I wouldrather see her marry an honest working man."
The Countess' seriousness suddenly vanished, and she laughed lightly asshe answered:
"I really believe that after all, dear old boy, you are in love withDora yourself. I know you used to be rather fond of her in the olddays, and am inclined to think that in reality you are Jack's rival."
"No, not at all," I said. "Bethune is my friend; so is Dora. I merelydesire to see them happy, and if I can save your sister from a life ofwretchedness with Wansford, I shall feel that at least I have acted asher friend."
"Rubbish!" the Countess exclaimed impatiently. "Marriage nowadays is amere commercial transaction; very few people marry for love. Anaffectionate husband is apt to be jealous, and jealousy is decidedlybourgeois. Besides, Jack hasn't the means to keep Dora as she should bekept. It would mean a red-brick villa in a remote suburb with a coupleof servants, I suppose. Why, she would leave him in six months."
"No," I said. "Surely love and sufficient to provide comfort is betterthan loathing and thirty thousand a year! Scarcely a man in England orAmerica is b
etter known than Jack Beaune."
"I was only aggravating you," she said with a tantalising smile a momentlater. "I quite admit the force of your argument, but to argue isuseless. Mother has set her mind upon Lord Wansford, and, although Ishould like to see Dora marry Jack, I'm afraid there's but little chanceof the match--unless, of course, they throw over the maternal authorityaltogether and--"
The words froze upon her lips. With her eyes fixed beyond me, shestarted suddenly and turned deathly pale, as if she had seen anapparition. Alarmed at her sudden change of manner, and fearing thatshe was about to faint, I turned in my chair, and was just in time tocome face to face with a tall military-looking man who was sauntering bywith a fair,
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