London's Heart: A NovelFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
London's Heart: A Novel
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
London (England) -- Fiction
"Yes; I have told an untruth, but one which, I think, may be pardoned.
I have not been to your house since eight o'clock. I saw your
grandfather then, and he told me you had gone to see _The Bells_, and
appeared anxious about you. I was anxious, also, for I did not care
that you should see such a piece."
Lily shuddered. "It was dreadful, Felix! Did you know that I fainted?"
"No; I noticed that you were very pale."
"You were watching me, Felix?"
"Yes, Lily; I was at the back of the pit, and could just see your
box."
Lily experienced an exquisite delight at this confession. He had come
to the theatre expressly to watch over her. Involuntarily she held out
her hand to him, and allowed it to remain in his grasp.
"I knew when you came out of the theatre, Lily," he continued, "and
when I came towards you just now, and you asked me if I had been at
home with your grandfather, I saw no other way of avoiding an
unpleasant explanation with Mr. Sheldrake than to say what was not
exactly true. If you can say sincerely that you forgive me for the
subterfuge, you will relieve my mind and make me feel less culpable."
"No forgiveness can be necessary, Felix, when the only feeling I have
is one of gratitude that you came when you did."
"Thank you; I am more than sufficiently rewarded. Now I am going to
say something to you, which may need forgiveness; but I depend upon
your generous nature not to misjudge me. My words are prompted by
sincerity and pure esteem, Lily. Shall I go on?"
"Yes," she answered, looking him earnestly in the face. There was so
much truthfulness in her gaze that he could have taken her to his arms
there and then, believing that she would have found comfort in that
shelter, knowing that it would be to him the greatest happiness earth
could afford. But he mastered the impulse with manly resolve, and with
a tender and chivalrous regard for her weakness. There was no fear, no
doubt, in her face; she knew she could trust him; all the bright
dreams of her youth were embodied in him, and would ever be, though
the dear realisation of them might never, never come. He was her
knight, in the truest sense of the word.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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