‘Well, not raised exactly, perhaps, but you know what I mean. We were mutually attracted, but, of course, it was understood from the beginning that the connection would only last until I thought fit to marry. Now, of course, I shall pension her off, and have already written to my solicitor on the subject. That is really all that any man can say against me, Sir Richard, and it is far less than the generality of young fellows of the present day have to confess to. My life has always been a clean one. I have no debts, my property is unencumbered, and I have no proclivities for low tastes or companions. If you will trust your daughter to my care, I promise that her private rights shall be protected as rigorously as her public ones.’
‘It is a grand position,’ said the father, thoughtfully, ‘and I do not know that I should be justified in refusing it for Nora. Only it seems very terrible to me about this other young woman. How is your marriage likely to affect her? I could have no faith in the stability of my daughter’s happiness if it were built up on the misery of another.’
Lord Ilfracombe looked up astonished.
‘Oh, Sir Richard, you need have no scruples on that account, I assure you. These people do not feel as we do. I should have ended the business any way, for I was getting rather sick of it. To prove what I say is correct, I have already written to my man of business, Mr Sterndale, to draw up a deed settling five thousand pounds upon her, which will secure an ample annuity for a woman in her sphere of life. She was only a country girl somewhere out of Scotland, I believe. She will be all right, and, honestly, I never wish to hear her name again.’
‘Very well, Lord Ilfracombe, of course, under any circumstances, the termination of such a connection is a good thing, and I am glad to hear that the remembrance of it is distasteful to you. You are a man of honour, and, therefore, I accept your assurance that it is all over henceforth, and that you will make my daughter a kind and faithful husband. But be careful of her, and don’t let her have too much of her own way. I’ve seen the bad effects of such a course of behaviour before now.’
So it was a settled thing that Miss Nora Abinger was to become the Countess of Ilfracombe, and she rose in the estimation of the residents of Malta accordingly. She had been a fast, bold, flirting girl as Nora Abinger, but when she was announced as the future Lady Ilfracombe, it was suddenly discovered that she was really excessively clever and witty, and though no one could call her exactly pretty, there was something, a je ne sais quoi, about her manner of holding herself and the way she turned her head that was certainly very fascinating. Her promised husband, who had discovered her fascinations before, and was admitted to the full enjoyments of all her wilful moods and witty sayings, fell more deeply in love with her every day, and had hardly patience to wait till the wedding preparations were completed for the fulfilment of his happiness. If a thought of Nell Llewellyn crossed his mind at this period it was only to hope that her interview with Sterndale had passed off quietly, and that she would have the sense to clear out without any fuss. So intensely selfish does a new passion make a man! The time had been when Nell, who was twice as strong, mentally and physically, as Nora Abinger, was Lord Ilfracombe’s ideal of a woman. Her finely moulded form had seemed to him the perfection of symmetry; her majestic movements, the bearing of a queen; the calm, classic expression of her features, just what that of a well-bred gentlewoman’s should be. Now he was gazing rapturously, day after day, upon Nora’s mobile face, on her slim and lissom figure, which, stripped of its clothing, resembled nothing better than a willow wand, and listening eagerly to her flow of nonsensical chatter, during which she successively ‘cheeked’ her parents and himself, ridiculed her acquaintances, scolded her younger brethren, and took her own way in everything. In truth, she differed as greatly from the loving, submissive woman, who lived but to please him, in England, as she possibly could do, and herein lay her attraction for him. Nell Llewellyn was more beautiful, more obedient and more loving, but Nora was more new. He had become just a little bit tired of Nell, and he had never met a girl who treated him as Nora did, before. She spoke to him exactly as she chose; she didn’t seem to care a pin about his title or his money. She contradicted him freely; refused his wishes whenever they clashed in any degree with her own, and let him fully understand that she intended to do exactly as she chose for the remainder of her life. She was a new experience to Lord Ilfracombe, who had been accustomed to be deferred to in everything. Perhaps she knew this; perhaps she was ‘cute’ enough to guess the likeliest method by which to snare the fish she had set her heart on catching; anyway the bait took and the gudgeon was netted. The Earl of Ilfracombe and Miss Nora Abinger were formally engaged and the wedding-day was fixed. But still the young lady did not relax her discipline, and her lover’s privileges remained few and far between.
‘Paws off Pompey!’ she would cry if he attempted to take any of the familiarities permissible to engaged people. ‘Do you want Vicenzo or Giorgione to make us the jest of Valetta? Don’t you know that “spooning” is out of fashion? We leave all that sort of thing to the oi polloi now-a-days.’
‘Oh, do we?’ the young man would retort, playfully; ‘then I’ll belong to the oi polloi, Nora, if you please! At all events, I’m going to have a kiss!’
‘At all events, you’re going to have no such thing; at least, not now. There’ll be plenty of time for all that kind of nonsense after we’re married, and we’re not there yet, you know. Don’t forget “there’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip.”’
Then, seeing him frown, she would add coaxingly, twisting her mouth up into the most seductive curves as she spoke,—