Scheherazade: a London night's entertainmentWarden, Florence
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Scheherazade: a London night's entertainment
Warden, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century
“It is only some little caprice of hers,” she said persuasively, not
guessing that there was any mystery in the matter, and considering the
young bride’s conduct as the result of some girlish freak. “I think
she was offended because uncle didn’t introduce the boys to her. She
will be all right if you leave her alone a few minutes.”
But George was not unnaturally annoyed at his wife’s rudeness, and he
followed her into the little drawing-room, where he found her with her
nose flattened against the window, staring at Lord Florencecourt’s
retreating figure. She had no explanation to give of her conduct, but
persisted in begging him not to take her to Willingham. As he remained
firm on this point, and continued to press her for her reasons, she
grew mutinous, and at last peace was only made between them on the
conditions that she would go to Willingham if he would not tease her
with any more questions.
And George had to be content with this arrangement, being above all
things anxious to learn the meaning of the miraculous change of front
on the part of Lady Florencecourt and her husband.
CHAPTER XIX.
At dinner at Maple Lodge on the evening of their arrival, George
Lauriston and his wife met the gentle Dicky Wood, who had come down
the day before, and spent the afternoon riding with the son of Sir
Henry’s steward. Nouna was much pleased by this compliance with her
wishes, and showed her appreciation of it by flirting very prettily at
dinner with the young guardsman. Later in the evening she held in the
verandah a little court, and chanted them some half-wild,
half-monotonous Indian songs in a tiny thread of sweet voice, with
some plaintive low notes that lived in the memory. And George, who was
standing with Ella some yards away from the rest of the group, felt
thrilled through and through by the weird melodies, and liked to fancy
that in these native songs of hers the soul-voice, that, in the
tumultuous life of emotions and sensations in which she found her
happiness, had small opportunity to be heard, forced up its little
note and promised a richer fulness of melody by and by.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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