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PAGE 6

Simon’s Hour
by [?]

Lady Allonby had risen.

“Positively, I must ask you to open a window if you intend to continue in this strain. D’ye mean to suffocate me, my Lord, with your flames and your blazes and your brimstone and so on? You breathe conflagrations, like a devil in a pantomime. I had as soon converse with a piece of fireworks. So, if you’ll pardon me, I will go to my brother.”

At the sound of her high, crisp speech his frenzy fell from him like a mantle. “And you let me kiss you yesterday! Oh, I know you struggled, but you did not struggle very hard, did you, Anastasia?”

“Why, what a notion!” cried Lady Allonby; “as if a person should bother seriously one way or the other about the antics of an amorous clodhopper! Meanwhile, I repeat, my Lord, I wish to go to my brother.”

“Egad!” Lord Rokesle retorted, “that reminds me I have been notably remiss. I bear you a message from Harry. He had to-night a letter from Job Nangle, who, it seems, has a purchaser for Trevor’s Folly at last. The fellow is with our excellent Nangle at Peniston Friars, and offers liberal terms if the sale be instant. The chance was too promising to let slip, so Harry left the island an hour ago. It happened by a rare chance that some of my fellows were on the point of setting out for the mainland,–and he knew that he could safely entrust you to Mrs. Morfit’s duennaship, he said.”

“He should not have done so,” Lady Allonby observed, as if in a contention of mind. “He–I will go to Mrs. Morfit, then, to confess to her in frankness that, after all these rockets and bonfires–“

“Why, that’s the unfortunate part of the whole affair,” said Lord Rokesle. “The same boat brought Sabina a letter which summoned her to the bedside of her husband, [Footnote: Archibald Morfit, M.P. for Salop, and in 1753 elected Speaker, which office he declined on account of ill-health. He was created a baronet in 1758 through the Duke of Ormskirk’s influence.] who, it appears, lies desperately ill at Kuyper Manor. It happened by a rare chance that some of my fellows were on the point of setting out for the mainland–from Heriz pier yonder, not from the end of the island whence Harry sailed,–so she and her maid embarked instanter. Of course, there was your brother here to play propriety, she said. And by the oddest misfortune in the world,” Lord Rokesle sighed, “I forgot to tell her that Harry Heleigh had left Usk a half-hour earlier. My memory is lamentably treacherous.”

But Lady Allonby had dropped all affectation. “You coward! You planned this!”

“Candidly, yes. Nangle is my agent as well as Harry’s, you may remember. I have any quantity of his letters, and of course an equal number of Archibald’s. So I spent the morning in my own apartments, Anastasia,–tracing letters against the window-pane, which was, I suppose, a childish recreation, but then what would you have? As you very justly observe, country life invariably coarsens a man’s tastes; and accordingly, as you may now recall, I actually declined a game of écarté with you in order to indulge in these little forgeries. Decidedly, my dear, you must train your husband’s imagination for superior flights–when you are Lady Rokesle.”

She was staring at him as though he had been a portent. “I am alone,” she said. “Alone–in this place–with you! Alone! you devil!”

“Your epithets increase in vigor. Just now I was only a clodhopper. Well, I can but repeat that it rests with you to make me what you will. Though, indeed, you are to all intent alone upon Usk, and upon Usk there are many devils. There are ten of them on guard yonder, by the way, in case your brother should return inopportunely, though that’s scarcely probable. Obedient devils, you observe, Anastasia,–devils who exert and check their deviltry as I bid ’em, for they esteem me Lucifer’s lieutenant. And I grant the present situation is an outrage to propriety, yet the evil is not incurable. Lady Allonby may not, if she value her reputation, pass to-night at Stornoway; but here am I, all willingness, and upstairs is the parson. Believe me, Anastasia, the most vinegarish prude could never object to Lady Rokesle’s spending to-night at Stornoway.”