Her name was sweetened to her ear for ever. He looked way-worn and tired; yet so eager, so spiritually alert. Never had that glitter and magic he carried about with him been more potent, more compelling.
Alack! what woman ever yet refused to love a man because he loved himself? It depends entirely on how she estimates the force of his temptation. And it would almost seem as though nature, for her own secret reasons, had thrown a special charm round the egotist of all types, for the loving and the true. Is it that she is thinking of the race—must needs balance in it the forces of death and life? What matters the separate joy or pain!
Yes. Lucy would have given herself to Manisty, not blind to risks, expecting thorns!—if it had been possible.
But it was not possible. She rose from her seat, and sternly dismissed her thoughts. She was no conscious thief, no willing traitor. Not even Eleanor should persuade her. Eleanor was dying because she, Lucy, had stolen from her the affections of her inconstant lover. Was there any getting over that? None! The girl shrank in horror from the very notion of such a base and plundering happiness.
CHAPTER XXIV
On the following morning when Lucy entered Eleanor's room she found her giving some directions to Marie.
'Tell Mamma Doni that we give up the rooms next week—Friday in next week.
Make her understand.'
'Parfaitement, Madame.' And Marie left the room. Lucy advanced with a face of dismay.
'Ten days more!—Eleanor.
Eleanor tapped her lightly on the cheek, then kissed her, laughing.