Scheherazade: a London night's entertainmentWarden, Florence
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Scheherazade: a London night's entertainment
Warden, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century
She folded her little hands, still with one of his clasped between
them, madonna-like against her breast, and bowed her head low in token
of deep, devoted humility. It was the passionate human warmth within
her, glowing in her impulses of love and hate, and freezing in her
bursts of pride, which had melted so quickly the heart of the reserved
young Englishman, and made her irresistible to him.
In a burst of most deep, most loyal tenderness, he lifted her up in
his arms, and curled her slender limbs about him, and held her like a
cherished pet lamb against his breast.
“My darling,” he whispered in her ear--a little shell-like ear of rose
and ivory tints--“I shall speak to you always as a man speaks to the
creature that lives in his heart, whom he loves, whom he trusts, whom
he worships. And you, Nouna, must be good and gentle, and grow up into
a sweet, noble woman for me, so that my love for you may make me
better. I can never give you a palace, Nouna, or elephants with golden
trappings; if I can ever buy you diamonds it will not be till you are
too old to care for them; and you will only have one slave. But you
will be a queen to me, my darling, as long as our lives last; and I
will get on and make my name famous, so that you shall not envy the
proudest maharanee in India, you shall be so happy as the good true
wife of a plain English gentleman.”
“Wife!” repeated Nouna wonderingly, raising her head from his shoulder
to peer into his eyes. “That is what mamma always says. I must be good
and be the wife of an English gentleman, and then I shall be happy!
Are all the wives of English gentlemen so happy?”
George felt hot. Those gleaming black eyes, though they could not read
thoughts half so quickly and surely as they did feelings, had a
steadiness and persistency that made it hard to look into them and
tell a lie.
“All those that are beautiful and good like you are happy, unless they
marry bad men.”
“How can they tell they’re bad before they’ve married them? You might
be bad, and I shouldn’t know.”
“You will have time to find out in the two years that must pass before
I can marry you.”
“Two years!” She began writhing and wriggling in his arms like an
electric eel. “Put me down, put me down at once!” She enforced her
command with such agile movements that he had to comply. “I’m not
going to wait two years!” And she readjusted her crumpled draperies
with an injured manner. “I shall marry you at once, or else I shall
not marry you at all. I shall have Rahas; he has changed to-day, and
says he only desires my happiness; but he shall change back again and
desire me for a wife. I will not wait two years. You do not love me.
Love is for now, not for two years!”
He has changed to-day! Those words struck Lauriston, and reminded him
again of the strangeness of the circumstances which surrounded the
girl he loved, and of the impossibility of settling anything until he
had heard from her mother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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