Great Britain -- History -- George III, 1760-1820 -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
He would have said "Impossible" had he dared. As it was, he said he
should be charmed, and this set him thinking about how much money was
won and lost there, when fresh arrivals took up his attention, and soon
after Isaac announced:
"Mr and Mrs Frank Burnett."
Claire uttered a sigh of relief as she shook hands with her sister and
brother-in-law, the latter pairing off directly with one of the
officers.
"Well," said May eagerly, "is all right?"
"Yes, dear; but they want money, and I have none."
"Oh, dear, money again! Well, I'll see."
"But, May dear, you must do something more."
"What do you mean?"
"This task grows more difficult every day. You must really make some
arrangements, or I shall be compromised."
"Well, how shall I be? do you want me to be compromised? I declare you
have no more feeling than a stone."
"May--dear May!"
"It's quite true. I'm disgraced by my family at every turn. What with
brothers turning common soldiers, and horrors in the house, and--"
"My dear Mrs Burnett, this is an unexpected pleasure," said Sir Harry
Payne, coming up with Lord Carboro', who managed to cut in before
Rockley, who was approaching Claire.
"Oh, what a wicked, wicked story-teller you are!" said May, with
childish playfulness, as Sir Harry remained by her side, while Lord
Carboro' led off Claire. "You knew I was coming."
"I did, I did," he whispered passionately.
"Hush! Don't go on like that. Everybody is watching us."
"Then when will you give me a chance to see you alone?"
"Oh, I couldn't think of such a thing."
"May! dearest May."
"Hush!"
The conversation was carried on in a low tone, and then May exclaimed:
"Oh, impossible!"
"It is not," he said eagerly. "It is simplicity itself."
He whispered again, and May Burnett shook her head.
"I implore you," he whispered. "You know all I feel, but you are as
hard and cold as you are beautiful. There, I swear if you do not
consent, I'll--"
"Pistols, or off the pier?" said May, with a provoking smile.
"Oh, you are maddening!" he exclaimed. "I believe you would like to see
me lying dead."
"Oh, no; I don't like to see dead people," she said mockingly.
"All these weary months, and not one short interview. You are playing
with me. Curse him!"
"Curse whom?" said May coolly.
"That husband of yours. I'll pick a quarrel with him next time we play
cards and shoot him."
"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"
It was a sweetly innocent sounding little trill of laughter as ever
passed from a provoking pouting rosebud of a mouth; and Claire heard it,
and turned paler than ordinary, as she saw in whose company her sister
was.
"You will excuse me now, Lord Carboro'," she said. "I have my duties as
hostess to attend to."
"One moment," he said, placing his back to the company, and gazing with
a look of such reverence as he had not for long years felt for woman in
the sweet face before him.
Claire looked up at him half wonderingly.
"I am a very old friend of your father, Miss Denville."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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