[CHAPTER VIII.]
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
It is a lovely afternoon in early summer, and a pair of youthful lovers have the morning room at Fairlawn to themselves.
And a very pleasant room it is, at once sunny and airy, with two long windows which open on a space of greenest lawn interspersed with flower beds of various quaint shapes and sizes, which as yet are hardly in their full summer beauty. At one end of the room is an archway shrouded by a portière, forming the entrance to the second Mrs. Drelincourt's boudoir.
At a table between the windows a very charming girl, as fresh and sweet as a rosebud dipped in dew, is arranging some cut flowers in a Nankin jar. On a couch no great distance away, admiring her with all his eyes, lounges a rather jaded looking young man in flannels; jaded, be it understood, not from dissipation, but from overwork.
"I only sat out two dances the whole evening, and it was my own fault I didn't dance those." It was Marian Drelincourt who spoke.
"No doubt you fancied yourself the belle of the ball," rejoined the young man. "I dare say there were several other young ladies there who cherished the same pleasing delusion."
"No such silly thought ever entered my head. But I will say this--that if there had been twice as many dances, I could have had partners for all of them."
"You seem on particularly good terms with your young self this afternoon. I almost wonder how you escaped falling in love with one or other of your partners."
"How do you know that I did escape? There were two or three who made themselves especially agreeable. But for anything that may have happened you have only yourself to blame. You ought to have been there to look after me, and keep me out of danger. Mrs. Delisle could easily have managed to get a ticket for you."