The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
So the party broke up and the guests dispersed, and Bryan Duval, in
taking farewell of Miss Montressor, told her that if the letters which
he expected in the morning arrived, he should be able to let her know
for certain the day of sailing for New York.
'It has been a delightful day, Mr. Foster,' said the actress, as they
drove homewards, 'and I have enjoyed it immensely. Will you be able to
give us any such outings in America?'
'I hope many such,' said Mr. Foster; 'but unless you take more care of
yourself, I fear you will not be there to enjoy them. Seriously, your
English spring weather is proverbially treacherous, and the wind
tonight has a touch of east in it, which should induce you to wrap
your shawl more closely round you.'
'I want to wrap myself up,' said Miss Montressor, justly estimating
the truth of his words, 'for I am particularly susceptible to cold,
but I cannot for this bothering pin.'
'What is the matter with the pin?' said Mr. Foster, laughing.
'It is not half strong enough to hold the shawl together. I cannot
imagine how Justine sent me out with such a stupid thing.'
'Perhaps this will prove more effectual?' said Mr. Foster, taking the
breast-pin from his cravat and offering it to her.
'Thanks very much,' she cried, accepting it with great readiness.
'What a very pretty pin! I love these cameos, and this is such a
good-looking boy, with a straight nose and a queer cap on his head.'
'A Phrygian cap,' said Mr. Foster, laughing. 'It is a head of Ganymede.
I had it set as a pin, I thought it so handsome.'
'Do you mean to say you brought it with you from Phrygia, or wherever
it is?' asked the actress, who was vague in her geography.
'No, no,' said Mr. Foster, laughing still more; 'but it was a
sleeve-link when I first found it among my clothes when I opened my
portmanteau in London. I suppose it belonged to my wife, as she is
fond of such things, and that it was put up with my things by
accident.'
The shawl comfortably pinned round her, Miss Montressor settled
herself down to her corner, and neither she nor her companion spoke
much more, being occupied with their own reflections. But when Mr.
Foster took leave of her, he reminded her of Bryan Duval's last words,
and told her that if he were prevented from sailing in the Cuba, he
should certainly accompany the theatrical party down to Liverpool, and
take leave of them on board.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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