English fiction -- 19th century; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Smugglers -- Fiction
"I thought we were separated, you and I; separated for ever. We had
quarrelled, I think; that point was not clear; but you turned off one
way, and I another. It was in the gallery of this house, William, and
we had been talking together. You went out at the other end, by the
door near the dining-room, and I at this end; and we turned at the
last and looked at one another. Oh, the look was dreadful! I shall
never forget it: so full of pain and sadness! And we knew, both of us
knew, that it was the last farewell look; that we should never again
meet in this world."
"Oh, my love! my love!" he murmured, bending his face on hers. "And
you could let it trouble you!--knowing it was but a dream! Nothing but
the decree of God--death--shall ever separate us, Mary. For weal or
for woe, we will go through the life here together."
He kissed away the tears that had gathered in her eyes at the
remembrance; and Miss Castlemaine turned hastily into one of the
larger rooms, and took up her standing there in expectation. For the
feet of the gay world were already traversing the gallery.
She welcomed her guests, soon coming in thick and threefold, with the
gracious manner and the calm repose of bearing that always
characterised her, apologising to all for the absence of her father;
telling that he had been called out unexpectedly on some matter of
business, but would soon return. Amid others, came the party from
Greylands' Rest, arriving rather late: Mrs. Castlemaine in black
velvet, leaning on the arm of her stepson; Ethel Reene walking
modestly behind, in a simple dress of white net, adorned with white
ribbons. There was many a fine young man present, but never a finer or
more attractive one than Harry Castlemaine; with the handsome
Castlemaine features, the easy, independent bearing, and the ready
tongue.
"Is it of any use to ask whether you are at liberty to honour me with
your hand for the first dance, Mary Ursula?" he inquired, after
leaving Mrs. Castlemaine on a sofa.
"Not the least, Harry," answered Miss Castlemaine, smiling. "I am
engaged for that, and for the second as well."
"Of course. Well, it is all as it should be, I suppose. Given the
presence of Mr. Blake-Gordon, and no one else has so good a right as
he to open the ball with you."
"You will find a substitute for me by the asking, Harry. See all those
young ladies around; not one but is glancing towards you with the hope
that you may seek her."
He laughed rather consciously. He was perfectly well aware of the
universal favour accorded by the ladies, young and old, to Harry
Castlemaine. But this time, at any rate, he intended to disappoint
them all. He turned to Miss Reene.
"Will you take compassion upon a rejected man, Ethel? Mary Ursula
won't have me for the first two dances, you hear; so I appeal to you
in all humility to heal the smart. Don't reject me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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