What had happened the night before had altered the whole of life for Lily Fairfield. Everything, excepting Angus Stuart, his love for her, her love for him, seemed out of focus. She felt ashamed of the interest she had felt in Beppo Polda. She had looked forward to his visit at La Solitude, but now she regarded it with indifference, mixed with a certain apprehension—an apprehension which had deepened since Cristina had uttered those curious, ambiguous words to the old nun. Cristina obviously hoped, with all her heart, that she would marry Beppo, and without any doubt the Countess hoped so too, now that she, Lily, had become residuary legatee to Cousin Rosa.
But somehow she no longer felt afraid of Aunt Cosy, and of Aunt Cosy’s plans. Even in England people often want a marriage to come to pass—and it just doesn’t!
What would Lily have felt had she known that Aunt Cosy had taken from the postman that very day a bulky letter addressed to “Miss Lily Fairfield,” and, further, that after having carefully perused it, she had decided that it need never be delivered to its lawful owner?
CHAPTER XXV
“I love you, Lily—love you passionately! Why should you be offended at my saying this? Surely you can understand that we Southerners are not like cold, calculating Englishmen? We say what is in our heart. You laughed just now when I told you that you had been my ideal woman for years, and yet, Lily, it is true!”
Beppo’s voice was broken with what seemed to be real tears, and Lily, in spite of herself, felt moved and thrilled by his ardent words.
It was the first evening of the young man’s stay at La Solitude, and the two were alone in the garden. After dinner it was Lily who had suggested that they should go out of doors. She had done so quite simply, thinking that the Count and Countess would, as a matter of course, come out too. But they had both stayed in the stuffy salon, only opening one of the windows for a moment to watch with eager, benign eyes the two young people go off together, alone, into the moonlight, to the right, where there was a grass path which led to the confines of the little property.
It was there, pacing up and down almost within earshot of the house, that Beppo, soon throwing away his cigarette, had begun pouring out ardent declarations of love....
At first Lily had tried to treat what he said as a joke, or as a half-joke, but he had soon forced her to take him seriously, for he became more violent, more passionate in his utterances.
Now she was just a little frightened. How would she ever get through the next few days, if whenever they were alone Beppo talked and, what was far worse, acted as he was now doing? For suddenly he had seized her hands, and now he was pressing burning kisses on their upturned palms.