Annie Stanley All At Sea Sue Teddern download

https://ebookbell.com/product/annie-stanley-all-at-sea-sue-
teddern-46321366

Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.

Charming Texas Cowboy Big Chance Dog Rescue Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/charming-texas-cowboy-big-chance-dog-
rescue-teri-anne-stanley-44846806

Lucky Chance Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/lucky-chance-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-46293130

Charming Texas Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/charming-texas-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-46417044

Big Chance Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/big-chance-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-48759748
Charming Texas Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/charming-texas-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-48414124

Charming Texas Cowboy Big Chance Dog Rescue Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/charming-texas-cowboy-big-chance-dog-
rescue-teri-anne-stanley-49947642

Big Chance Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/big-chance-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-44846760

Lucky Chance Cowboy Teri Anne Stanley

https://ebookbell.com/product/lucky-chance-cowboy-teri-anne-
stanley-12224872

Accidentally In Love With The Pilot Stanley Teri Anne

https://ebookbell.com/product/accidentally-in-love-with-the-pilot-
stanley-teri-anne-10039952
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
"I can do so in one word--Demetrius." Katinka rose to give full force of
expression to the name, and her voice rose with the utterance.

Leah remained perfectly calm, and indulged in badinage. "Demetrius? Oh

yes, that horrid little man with the waxed moustache: a doctor or a chemist,
wasn't he?"

"Your lover!"

"Oh no. I have no use for that sort of person; if I had I should certainly not
pick one out of the gutter. Demetrius? Yes," she went on musingly, but
watchful of her enemy, "I had almost forgotten him. He went to St.
Petersburg, didn't he? And you loved him, I remember. A queer choice I
thought at the time. Well, have you married him?"

"It grows late and you are tired," mocked Katinka, successfully keeping her
temper, and thereby disappointing the Duchess; "we had better not waste
time."

Leah yawned. "It seems to me that we have been doing nothing else since
you came in."

"Demetrius is in England."

"Really! How very interesting! As doctor or Prince?"

"As an escaped Siberian felon."

"No!" Leah's face assumed a skilful expression of mingled pity and horror.
"Poor little man! He was mad to go to Russia. I thought so when I read his
letter, which I sent you."

"The forged letter."

"Don't be silly; one would think you were on the stage."

Katinka bit her lip to prevent furious speech, and locked her arms behind
her as though she feared lest temper should engender violence. Leah noted
her expression, however, and retreated towards the bell.
"You are talking nonsense," she said coldly, "and much as I respect your
father, I shall certainly summon, the servants to put you out unless you go at
once."

"I shall not go, and you shall not order your servants to put me out," cried
Katinka, fiercely. "I defy you to press the button of the bell."

With a feeling that the girl had scored on this occasion Leah withdrew her
hand, making the usual excuse: "For your father's sake I spare you the
indignity."

"I repeat that I have no father."

"And I repeat that I am tired. What do you want?"

"You must arrange with me to see Constantine."

"Who is Constantine?"

"You know."

"I do not."

"You do."

Their eyes met, and this time Leah won the victory over a woman obviously
worn out.

"Constantine is Demetrius," explained the Russian, in a fatigued voice and

closing her eyes. "Oh, my God!" She dropped into her seat with a low wail
and covered her face.

Leah heard the clock strike the half-hour through the sobs of her visitor. She
was absolutely sure that Katinka was at her mercy, and wished to dismiss
her, beaten and crushed. But first it was necessary to learn why Demetrius
had not come also. Leah moved swiftly towards the broken creature, and
laid a firm hand on her heaving shoulder.

"My dear----"
She got no further. With the elusive spring of a wild animal Katinka flung
off the hand, reared, and struck out. The blow fell fairly on Leah's mouth,
and she found herself mopping up the blood of a deeply-cut lip before she
had any clear idea of what had taken place.

"Oh, you liar, you beast, you devil!" cried the Russian, with the savagery of
a Kalmuck tent-woman. "I could kill you--kill you."

"Mad," mumbled Leah, with the lace handkerchief to her lips.

"I am sane," retorted the other, swiftly. "I know all. You lured Constantine
to Paris; you sold him to my father to hide your iniquity. I saw Helfmann
the spy; do you hear--the spy! I bribed him; it took months to bribe him, but
in the end I bought the truth. My father--shame to my father--drugged
Constantine at your table, and Helfmann as a sham doctor took him to
Havre, to Kronstadt, to Moscow. The Grand Duke Sergius"--here she spat
when mentioning the hated name--"yes, he, that beast of beasts, sent him to
Siberia for life; ar-r-r--for life! do you hear, Judas, Jezebel, animal that you
are! I followed there; I followed the man I loved----"

"And who did not love you," muttered the Duchess, rocking with the pain
of her swollen and bleeding lips. She had seated herself by this time, and
did not seek to stem the torrents of insults.

"And why?" Katinka flung back her head and her nostrils dilated. "Because
you stole his heart that he might do your evil bidding. But he loves me now-
-with all his heart and soul he loves me now. I went to Tomsk to aid his
escape; I followed to Sakhalin. I waited and waited, eating my heart out.
Oh, my heart!" she laid her hand on her breast; "oh, my breaking heart! We
escaped--he did--I did; we escaped. Do you hear, you who sold him? There
were months of terror and sorrow and cruel cold. But God was good; He
was kinder than man, more merciful than you, who damned a soul to that
frozen hell. God--the good God, whom I adore and worship," she fell on her
knees, striking her hands together--"He aided us to reach the waiting ship of
Strange, and----"

"Strange!" Leah rose, shaken and sick. "Strange!"

Katinka leaped up to face her. "The man you bribed with six thousand
pounds to take your sin on his soul. I know all about your wickedness;
Strange knows; Constantine knows. We will tell the world what we know;
and you, shamed, disgraced, beaten, hounded out of your world--ah, down
will you fall--fall--unless----"

"Unless?" Leah, gripping a chair and swaying, looked up. "Unless?"

"You come to Southend to see Constantine."

"I refuse."

"Then I tell everything. I go to your husband." Leah, in spite of her pain,

laughed at the idea. "I go to your police. I tell----"

"Stop, I shall come, since you insist upon it."

"I do--Constantine likewise. He is ill--very ill; his eyes are blinded by the
glare of the snows whither you sent him; he is--oh, my poor angel, my
patient saint!--he is----" Stopping abruptly, she looked with an evil eye at
the woman she had so shamefully marked. "I will leave you to see the
wreck you have made of him. You will come?"

The Duchess nodded. "But I can explain all," she mumbled.

"Explain it, then, to Constantine," said her enemy, contemptuously. "I go

now. Meet me to-morrow at Liverpool Street Station--at the barrier. We can
go to Southend by the five o'clock train. Constantine is on board Strange's
ship, which lies off Southend."

"Ah! Then you mean to----"

"Carry you away? No; you are not worth it."

Leah's indomitable courage, quelled for the moment, blazed up fiercely. She
forgot her pain, her disfigured mouth, and faced Katinka in a blind rage.
"You--you----" she clenched her hands, and panted like a spent runner. "You
have said all; I agree to all."
The Russian looked at the wounded mouth with a cruel, calm smile, then
sauntered deliberately to the door. There she smiled still more serenely,
pointed a mocking finger at her enemy's wry mouth, and slipped away
without a word, and almost without a sound.

Leah sprang to the mirror. Had this woman marred her beauty? The mouth
was swollen, the lips still bleeding; there were wounds within and without,
and a rather loose tooth. Leah could have howled aloud at the shame, the
humiliation of her defeat. That she should be struck, beaten, mastered--she
of all women; she--she! "Ar-r-r! Augh!" she cried, but softly, mindful of
danger. Then the thought came to her that she would have to account for her
damaged mouth, and with the thought came enlightenment. Passing quickly
out of the room, she ascended the stairs rapidly to her room. Half-way up
she stumbled and fell. The footman, hearing the fall, ran up and lifted her.
He saw that her mouth was bleeding. Natural enough--oh, perfectly natural!
"It's them beastly long trains," explained the footman in the servants' hall.

CHAPTER XXXII

"Never knew you to tumble before, Leah," grumbled the Duke, next
morning, when admitted into his wife's bedroom.

"Accidents will happen," murmured the Duchess, rather lamely, and too
much shaken to be original. "I can't talk, Jim--my mouth is still sore."

"What can you expect if you go a mucker? An' th' season's startin', too.
You'll not be able to show with that swellin'."
"A week at Firmingham will put me right. Katinka Aksakoff is coming
down also."

"Heard she looked in last night. What made her call at so late an hour?"

"She's worried about her father," lied Leah, prepared for the question.

"Had an almighty row with him over that bounder doctor, I expect."

Leah nodded languidly. "M. Aksakoff has gone to Southend. I take his
daughter with me there, to make peace."

"Southend? There's a hole! What's he doin' in that roost?"

"How should I know? I'll reconcile the two if I can, and Katinka can be my
companion at Firmingham."

"Dull company," confessed Jim, candidly; "she never could flirt."

"That will be no drawback," said his wife, dryly. "Go away, please."

"What lie am I to tell 'bout your sickness?"

"Tell the truth, by way of a novelty; or if you prefer a lie, say that I have
appendicitis. One must be fashionable, even in diseases."

"All right," said Jim, too obtuse to note the irony. "Sorry you're so ill.
You've made an awf'l mess of yourself: women will wear such confounded
trains. Goo'bye at present. I'll look in at Firmingham durin' your week of
penance;" and, talking himself out of the room, Jim went about his ordinary
nefarious occupations, feeling that he had behaved as a husband should.

The Duchess turned wearily on her pillows and winced. Not with pain, for
her mouth, though still swollen, was much less tender. It was the prospect
before her that hurt. In the evening a difficult interview had to be got
through somehow, and her brain began to forecast the probable result. If
Katinka could be believed it would scarcely prove to be a pleasant one.
Demetrius apparently intended to punish her by blackening an unsoiled
character. "Such a nasty, revengeful spirit," thought Leah, feeling ill-used
and depressed.

But, after all, what could the man say likely to incriminate her, seeing that
she had moved amongst the pitfalls of the plot as delicately as Agag?
Demetrius had conceived and executed the entire scheme, and what he
could say would only fit in neatly with Strange's confession, which the
public already knew and condemned. Her hand could not be traced either in
his Parisian journey or in the drugging of the tea. How was she to know that
Helfmann was a police spy, or that the letter assuring her of the doctor's
intended return to Russia had been deftly forged? Her surface behaviour, at
least, was perfectly honest, and would bear even the scrutiny of an
interviewer. She could, taking a broad view of unpleasant circumstances,
defy the creature; but nevertheless felt instinctively that it would be unwise
to dare him to do his worst. Such a plotting, narrow-minded, sneaking beast
would ruin himself to ruin her, and mud, if thrown persistently, was apt to
stick even to the whitest robe. What a shame that this animal should so
persecute her! How hard on a kind-hearted woman, whose sin, as he called
it, was merely an error of judgment. By the time Leah finished her
reflections her frame of mind was one of much-injured innocence.

Later in the day, when driving to Liverpool Street Station to keep her hated
appointment, Leah half decided to call on Aksakoff. But second thoughts
assured her that his intervention was quite out of the question. Were
Demetrius to be arrested in British waters the Radical press would howl,
and nasty meddling politicians would ask unnecessary questions in the
Commons. It would be wiser, after all, to fight alone and to the bitter end. If
Demetrius thought she would give in, Demetrius was entirely mistaken. He
had yet to learn that she could be as nasty as hitherto she had been nice. But
he was horridly ungrateful, as all men were. In this way did the arch-plotter
salve her conscience and compose her mind.

It was darkish when the brougham arrived at the station, and Leah, glancing
about under the electric lamps, saw Katinka waiting at the ticket-barrier. For
the benefit of an inquisitive maid and an observant groom she addressed her
gaily, though it was not easy to speak with still aching lips.
"You are punctual," said the Duchess, pressing an unwilling hand with
ostentatious warmth. "Excuse my speaking much. I fell on the stairs last
night after you left and hurt my mouth."

"I commiserate with you, madame," replied Katinka, sarcastically.

"So good of you. I hope M. Aksakoff will not expect me to chatter."

"My father?" echoed the girl, staring.

"He's at Southend, isn't he?" said Leah, impatiently; "at least, you told me
so last night. I have instructed my maid to go on to Firmingham, while we
travel straight to Southend. Such a cockney place, isn't it? Then we can get
back--oh, about what time?"

"Say eleven o'clock," returned the Russian, grimly. She now saw through
the clever comedy which was being played.

"You understand, Marie," said Leah, turning to her maid, who was all ears
and eyes; "see that the brougham is sent in time. Come with me, dear--
there's a reserved compartment--at least, I ordered one. Curl, go and look."

Thus prattling to deceive her domestics, Leah adjusted a very thick veil,
which hid from the public a face whose expression was quite at variance
with her sweet nothings. When the two entered the carriage and the train
was moving slowly out of the station, Katinka burst into a harsh laugh.

"I congratulate you, Lady James; you should have been a conspirator."

"So your dear father told me. Compliments run in your family, apparently.
Surely you do not blame me for putting things right with my servants. They
might think it queer, otherwise, and one cannot be too careful with such
creatures."

"I fail to see what good your exceedingly clever explanations will do.
Constantine intends to speak out."

"What about?" asked Leah, chafing, and throwing up her veil to manage the
girl more easily with her dominating eyes.
Katinka, always fiery, and with slack nerves after her Siberian experiences,
almost lost what temper she had left. "Need we keep on your comedy,
madame?"

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean. One would think that I wished to
deceive people, the way you talk. And after what I have done for you, too--
it's most ungrateful."

"And pray what have you done, Lady James?"

"Don't call me Lady James; your stupid mistakes get on my nerves. Done?
Why, I pretended to fall on the stair to excuse the state of my mouth. Had I
been a nasty, spiteful creature such as you are, I should have given you in
charge for assault."

"Give me in charge now," sneered the girl.

"I might. Don't drive me into a corner."

"You are inconsistent. If you have done nothing wrong, how can I drive you
into the corner you speak of?"

"Because you are a monomaniac," retorted the Duchess, angrily; "you seem
to think that I am the cause of the doctor's exile. I, of all people, who would
not hurt a fly."

"You would hurt a dozen flies if anything was to be gained," snapped the
other, irritably. "You betrayed my Constantine."

"I did nothing of the sort, as he will understand when he hears what I have
to say."
"Hearing and believing are two different things, Lady James."

Leah shrugged away the speech. "Of course, you are prejudiced, because
Demetrius loves me."

Mademoiselle Aksakoff fetched a long, deep breath. "Do not try me too
far."

"Do you intend to assault me again?"

"No; I even apologise for the blow. I told Constantine this morning of my
interview, and he said that I was wrong. It is for him to deal you justice and
punishment."

"Punishment! Justice!" Leah laughed aloud in sheer rage at her inability to

parry these insults. "And for what, pray?"

"Constantine will tell you."

"In that case I do not wish a second-hand judgment from you."

The two glared at one another, venomous and defiant. As usual, the younger
woman's eyes fell first, and she retreated to the furthermost corner of the
carriage, while Leah, pulling down her veil, tried to face this most
disagreeable situation. Not another word did they exchange until the ducal
servants branched off at Shenfield Junction, and they had to be publicly
amiable. Then, again, silence reigned until their destination was reached. By
that time Leah was more her old insolent self, and disposed to be
unpleasant.

"Will yon drive or walk?" asked Katinka, coldly, when they alighted on the
Southend platform.

"Walk, of course. I do not mind at all being recognised, since I have come
to see your father on board this yacht."

"Captain Strange would be flattered by your description."

The Duchess laughed contemptuously as they stepped into the street. "I am
scarcely responsible for M. Aksakoff's notion of a yacht. Foreigners are so
ignorant."

"They are not so clever as Englishmen--or Englishwomen."

"Except in trickery and blackmail, where they surpass them," retorted Leah,
her petty rage insisting on having the last word.

Katinka permitted her the gratification, and they walked the whole length of
the High Street in grim silence.

At a rude quay jutting from the beach of the lower town they boarded a
disreputable boat, rowed by two pirates and steered by a third. The night
was starry but moonless, comparatively calm, and noticeably chilly. Leah
shivered as the boat made for a vivid green riding-light, which shone, an
emerald star, no great distance from the shore. But her shiver might have
been an admission of dread. Katinka took it to be so, and smiled in a
gratified way as her enemy climbed the side of the steamer, which was a
veritable gypsy of the sea, untidy, dirty, and decidedly questionable in
honest eyes. Strange did the honours, loud-tongued and raucous.

"Guess it do my eyes good to see your Grace," was his welcome.

"Hold your tongue, and don't use my title," she replied furiously.

Strange's milk of human kindness turned sour on the instant. "I ain't high-
falutin' enough, I s'pose. Pity I ain't a dandy skipper of sorts, all hair-oil an'
giddy gold tags."

Leah turned her back without deigning a reply, and looked inquiringly at
Katinka. The girl, with an enigmatic smile on her wan face, led the way
down some greasy stairs, into a stuffy state-room, and opened the narrow
door of a side-cabin. Leah entered and heard the lock click behind her.
Evidently Mademoiselle Aksakoff did not think it judicious to remain.

"But I daresay her ear is at the key-hole," thought the Duchess,

contemptuously. She was trying to preserve her self-respect by heaping
obloquy on her rival, but scarcely succeeded as well as she desired. Then
she said "Ugh!" twice and with emphasis.

The interjections were not meant for the girl's possible eavesdropping, but
to show Leah's disgust at the close atmosphere of the cabin. It was a
nauseous, musky, sickly odour, which reminded her only too vividly of the
monkey-house at the Zoo. Neither light nor air entered the den, save
through the round port-hole over the bunk, which was unscrewed. But even
the briny sea-breeze blowing softly could not do away with that thick,
tainted atmosphere which had provoked the visitor's exclamations. With her
handkerchief to her mouth Leah's eyes strove to become accustomed to the
faint light. She saw dimly a heap of blankets, but no form was visible
beneath, and no face was to be seen. Possible trickery occurred to her, until
a voice came heavily through the fetid gloom. Then, in spite of its odd,
strangled sound, she felt instinctively that Demetrius was buried somewhere
under the clothes.

"You will excuse the absence of a lamp, madame. My eyes are half blinded
with the snow-glare, and very tender."

"How strangely you speak!" remarked Leah, involuntarily.

"A sore throat," was the hoarse reply. "Siberia, as madame must be aware, is
not a summer climate." The wheezy sound ended in a kind of piping
whistle.

"I am sorry you have suffered," said the Duchess, at a loss what to say.
"Ugh, the smell!" she thought, seating herself on a locker, and feeling
almost too sick to control her faculties.

"Madame is too good."

A dangerous pause ensued, while Leah wondered what was about to

happen. The man assuredly was Demetrius, and Demetrius was assuredly
extremely ill. It was within the bounds of possibility that he might spring up
and kill her. The thought did not trouble her overmuch. So dangerous a
business had to be faced undauntedly, and she kept down her womanly
weakness with masculine strength. During those slow minutes she could
hear the lapping of the waters, on which the vessel rocked; hear also the
laboured breathing of the sick man. This stopped for a moment, and then
did she hear her own easy breaths. Demetrius evidently heard them also,
and had paused to listen. He laughed weakly, softly, clucking like a fowl.

"Madame is very brave."

"I'm frightened to death," she assured him, to excite his pity.

"Your breathing tells me otherwise. I am certain, madame, that your pulse

beats regularly, and that your nerves are entirely in order."

"Is this a consultation?" she asked coolly.

"It is the farewell of two who loved," murmured the hard, thick voice,
muffled by the blankets. "That is, madame, of one who loved and of one
who did not; and therein, as M. Heine truly remarks, lies the tragedy of
existence."

"Demetrius--Constantine." Leah felt that she must come to the point and get
rapidly through the interview, if only to escape from the sickening
atmosphere. "Katinka accuses me of betraying you."

"Well, madame?"

"I did not. I swear I did not."

"Indeed? Mademoiselle Aksakoff is doubtless mistaken."

"In a way. She wishes to save her father from blame."

"As a good daughter should. Will you explain further, madame?"

"Certainly. I came, of my own free will, to explain. Katinka told me how ill
you were, and I could not bear to think you should die believing me to be
dishonourable."

"Madame speaks hopefully of my dying. It would please her, perhaps?"

"No. What do you take me for? I never loved you as you wished to be
loved; but if M. Aksakoff had not interfered, and we had married, I should
have come to love you."

"You speak of what might have been."

"I suppose so. Circumstances are altered. Marriage is out of the question."

"Assuredly, and I am scarcely fit for a bridegroom."

"What is the matter with you?" asked Leah, anxiously.

Demetrius passed over the question. "Besides, Captain Strange informed

me that your husband has returned. Madame was doubtless pleased at that
marvellous resurrection, so cleverly managed."

"No," said Leah, honestly enough. "I was not; but circumstances made it
imperative that Jim should return."

"And for me to travel in Siberia?"

"Blame M. Aksakoff, blame M. Aksakoff," she insisted. "I am innocent."

"Be pleased to observe, madame, that as yet I have brought no accusation

against you."

"Katinka acted as your mouthpiece."

"You have not my authority to say that."

"Then I gather that you do not blame me for your exile?"

"How can I with any truth, madame, seeing that yon accuse M. Aksakoff?"

"I do," said Leah, resolutely.

"In that case I regret that Mademoiselle struck the wrong person."

"You know that she struck me?"

"I was informed of it this morning, and express my regret that she acted so
foolishly. Did the blow hurt you?"

"It was most painful. I feel it still."

"Your lip is cut, then?"

"Both lips--inside, luckily, so there will be no visible scars. But even now a
very little would make them bleed."

Such was the profound egotism of her nature that she expected further
sympathy from the man she had reduced to such a condition. But the
doctor's stock of polite phrases appeared to be exhausted. In place of a
compliment came a hoarse chuckle, like the cry of an early starling. "You
appear to approve," said Leah, ironically.

"Pardon; I mentioned before that Mademoiselle, in my humble opinion, was

wrong."

"She was very wrong. I am not accustomed to deal with wild beasts."

"Spare me, madame; I owe her so much."

"I owe her nothing except revenge for striking me. But I excuse that
because she is ignorant of the truth."

"I am also ignorant, madame."

"You shall hear it now--yes, the absolute truth."

Again came the raucous sound, which might have been a laugh or a groan--
Leah could not tell which.

"The truth," murmured the sick man; adding, after a significant pause, "I am
waiting, madame."

"I went to Paris with Miss Tallentire," explained the Duchess, beginning
anywhere in her hurry, "and Mr. Askew followed."
"Followed you?"

"Certainly not. I always detested the boy--so conceited. He admired Miss

Tallentire, and his liking for me was the passing fancy of a shallow nature.
To arouse your jealousy, M. Aksakoff put it about that Mr. Askew intended
to marry me in Paris. The gossip--and it was merely gossip--came to Mrs.
Penworthy's ears. That woman hated me then, and hates me now. To make
mischief she told you. You came over to Paris. There, you remember what
took place."

"Not at our final meeting. My last memory of your face is seeing it across
the tea-table."

"You had a fit of some kind, and M. Aksakoff called up a Dr. Helfmann,
who took you away in a cab to be cured. Then I received a letter from you,
stating that you were going to Russia. As I fancied you might have settled
with M. Aksakoff about your pardon, of course I quite believed it, and--and-
-I think that is all."

"Did you not know that the letter was forged?"

"No!"

"That the so-called Dr. Helfmann was a spy?"

"No!"

"That the coffee--or rather, that the tea was drugged?"

"No. How could I possibly know that M. Aksakoff was using me as his
tool? If the tea--it was tea--well, if he put anything into the tea, I did not see
him do it. It was M. Aksakoff who gave you into Dr. Helfmann's charge,
when you were insensible. Now, am I to blame?"

"Your explanation is eminently satisfactory, madame."

"And you believe me?"

"It would be impolite to doubt a lady."

Leah was nonplussed. She was manufacturing conversation, and his
comments were trivial, if not ironical, as she shrewdly suspected. She could
not quite arrive at his real meaning. He avoided answering leading
questions, and would neither accept not decline her asseverations.

"I have no more to say," she remarked, with an air of one washing her hands
of the whole affair.

Again a deadly silence ensued; again she heard the heavy breathing of the
creature hidden under the heaped blankets; again sounded the drowsy
lapping of the water and the faint sigh of the wind. This time she resolved to
make him speak, so that she might learn precisely what he thought. But the
moments passed and no speech came. Finally it did come, in the
unemotional voice of one who speaks in his sleep. He discoursed on a
subject about which she had no desire to hear.

"Paris--Havre--Kronstadt!" said the slow, drawling, monotonous tone, "and

then the weary journey across the Urals. Oh, the cold and the snows and the
bitter storms of Siberia! Chains and hunger, dirt and rags; and always--
always--the hopeless future. None loved me; none lifted me up; none spoke
words of kindness. Loneliness and sorrow and the constant torment of
painful memories."

The voice died away in a sob. Leah, desperately anxious to defend herself
still further, would have spoken. But her mouth was dry; her lips ached;
tremors thrilled her body as the nerves twittered, jumped, and quivered.
Over the low bunk she could see the rocking stars as the vessel swung to
her anchor. What glimmer of light there was revealed faintly the piled
blankets, and nothing more. The face was veiled by almost material
shadows. And again, drearily and heavily, rose the thick, muddy voice,
without variance in its tones, without the music of feeling. It might have
been, and probably was, a voice from the tomb, as it surged sluggishly
through the fetid gloom.

"St. Petersburg," announced the toneless voice, "Moscow, and the farce of a
trial. The waving of a white-gloved hand, and a courtly bow, to dismiss me
into pain and darkness and to a living grave. Nijni-Novgorod, and Mother
Volga, who takes us convicts to her breast."
Here came the dry chanting of a weird song which made the listener's flesh
creep, and her guilty soul quail. Then again, slowly, wearily, Demetrius
began to name the stations of his cross on the way to the calvary of a final
prison. "Kazan, Pianybor, Perm, the bleak Urals, that prison wall of the
exile; Ekaterinburg, Tiumen, the doorstep to the barren cell. Borka,
Dobrouna, Oshalka"--the rough Russian names grated on Leah's ears;--
"Yevlevoi and the slow-flowing river, the prison barge, the black bread, the
bitter, biting, burning cold; Tobolsk, with its deathly mists and clammy
darkness of Egypt; the Charity Song--the weary, weary Miloserdnaya!" He
sang another line or two in a cracked voice, and broke out more humanly:
"Then the warm sunshine like the smile of the good God, and days of those
gentle winds we shall never breathe more. The flowers and the winds, the
sunshine and the laughing children. Samarof, Sourgout, Narym;" he paused
to gather strength for the crying of a name which issued with a sob of
heartfelt agony: "Tomsk--oh, Tomsk! Those long, long days of waiting for
what was to be; the horrible mercies of the unjust. Kyrie eleison! Christe
eleison! Kyrie eleison!" She saw the convulsive movements of the blankets,
and knew that he was making the sign of the cross. After the crying to God
and His Son came the protest against the cruelty of man. "The weary prison
of Tomsk; the road--the long, horrible road to the ice-bound coast. Sakhalin,
the island of pain, the hell of the innocent, and a human soul lost. Christe
eleison! A loving, sinning soul for which Thou didst die, lost--lost--lost!"

Leah's nerves ached and shook and shuddered as the account of the vile
journey welled forth smoothly like thick oil. With fixed eyes and fascinated
ears she took in the terrible Odyssey. After another sobbing pause--the
broken creature was crying bitterly--the voice recommenced, droning on
one note until Leah felt that she could have screamed if only to vary the
sound.

Demetrius spoke of the barren wastes of Sakhalin in the Gulf of Ochotsk,

where the freezing straits of Neviski run between mainland and island. He
told of obdurate Cossacks, of cruel gaolers, of the treacherous Gilyak
natives, who prevent the escape of the mortal damned. A note of emotion
crept into the voice, and in its level tones she discerned a faint hope. A
smuggled letter, and the assurance that help was at hand; a corrupted
warder, a bribed soldier, a black starless night, and a desperate escape over
deserts of snow. Then came heart-rending relations of a drifting boat, of
suffering and starvation and cold which burnt to the bone. Leah heard of a
brave woman--"my love--my love," said the voice tenderly--toiling with a
bought Japanese fisherman to bring the tiny shallop to a haven beyond the
grip of the merciless Muscovite. The weird tale took her through La
Perouse Straits, northward amongst the Kurile Islands, and into the naked
lands of Kamchatka. Here again, as she gathered, the fugitives were in
danger of recapture; but they fled still further north through the bitter cold,
and under a bleak sunless sky, to herd with the Koriaks. The tormented
voice droned ever on about these filthy savages, fish-eaters, and hunters of
the unclean; it shuddered through accounts of loathsome diseases, and of
smoky defiled huts like the hells of Swedenborg. And the man wailed
always, ever and again, of the danger of being retaken, of terrible suspense,
of shattered nerves, and of the eternal strength of a pure woman's love. The
tale ended with painful outbursts of joy at the sight of Strange's tramp
standing towards the inhospitable Siberian coast.

"Peace, plenty, warmth, food, safety, kindness, hope, love!" chanted the
voice, broken up into almost musical gratitude. Then a pause of infinite
meaning, ended by a dry clucking chuckle. "And I lived that I might see
you," breathed the man she had cast into the hell he had described. Leah's
hair bristled at the roots. The speech was so terribly significant. But her soul
still fought against the inevitable punishment, whatever that might be.

"Not my fault," she panted eagerly; "horrible, horrible--but not my fault!

Oh, believe--believe me, Constantine."

"You have asserted your innocence before," murmured the sick man,
ironically; "and now----"

"Now?" her heart almost stood still, so intensely did she listen.

"We must part for ever."

"But you--you----"

"I devote what remains of my life to the woman who has saved me--to the
angel who drew me out of the frozen deeps of hell."
"And--and you--you will say--nothing?"

"This boat leaves here to-night for a place which need not be mentioned. I
go out of your life for ever, and silent."

"Oh, thank you--thank you!"

"For what, madame, since you assure me of your innocence?"

Leah felt awkward. She had said too much. "Katinka is so prejudiced that I
thought--I thought----"

Her voice died away. The lie would not come forth in the presence of this
dying wretch.

"You thought she would be jealous. Ah, no, madame." Demetrius paused
and clucked again like a brooding hen. "She permits you to kiss me with a
last kiss."

"No!" Leah half rose, and fell again, recoiling with a cry of terror at the
prospect of setting the final seal on her treachery, as did Judas in the
Garden.

"I beg of you, my first love. One kiss to dismiss me into the silence--to
close my mouth for ever and ever."

So he did doubt her; he did not believe. All her lies were discounted; all his
conversation was merely ironical and make-believe. He held her in a vice,
and release would come only when she submitted to a revolting caress.

"I will not--I dare not," she stammered, shrinking against the wall in an
agony of physical fear from an object which a guilty imagination revealed
as loathsome to sight and touch; "you--you have no right to----"

"The right of love," said the weary voice.

"You have no proof."

"The cypher letters;" and a lean hand held out a packet, drawn from under
the discoloured blankets.

"For one kiss, madame--for one kiss."

"Ugh!" groaned Leah, and snatched eagerly.

Packet and hand disappeared swiftly, and the voice whistled in a jeering
manner. "One kiss, madame, one kiss."

She still fought. "My mouth is sore. I am----"

"One kiss--one kiss--the last and the best; or--or----"

Leah, writhing against the wall, gasped soundlessly. In that last word there
was the sound of a terrible threat. It was the knell of respectability, of ease
and luxury, and of all that makes life worth living. A single caress would
buy the evidence; a touch of her mouth, and she would be free for ever and
ever and ever.

"One kiss, then," she muttered; and with all her soul crying strenuously
against the horror, she tottered forward. "One;" her lips sought the place
where a mouth might be supposed to be waiting. Two arms flew up and
gripped her.

She could not scream, for the arms dragged her down, belted her like iron
bands. Her mouth was on his, his lips were on hers. She writhed, silent and
agonised, in the horrible caress, in the abominable embrace, trying to free
herself in vain. Demetrius placed his lean hand on the back of her head and
absolutely ground her mouth against his own. She could feel the wounds
break and bleed, sanctifying the kiss of Judas.

His arms relaxed, she flung backward, and the long-withheld scream broke
forth shrill and vehement. As if in answer to that terrible summons, Katinka
tore open the door and entered with a smoky paraffin lamp. With one hand
the girl thrust the shaking, sobbing woman forward, with the other held the
lamp towards the face peering out of the blankets.
"Oh, my God!" shrieked Leah, and sprang from the cabin, pursued by the
cackling of broken laughter.

She made for the deck--for the side--for anywhere, to be out of the sight of
that face; that face which would haunt her till she died. Strange, in silence,
handed her, sobbing and whimpering, down the black side, where the boat
received her. She dropped in a heap, and beside her dropped from Katinka's
hand a packet of letters. Above from an open port-hole came clucking,
cackling, chuckling laughter, insanely gleeful, and the silent stars of God
shone over land and sea.

CHAPTER XXXIII

So Leah won after all. She went out with a definite purpose, and returned
with that purpose achieved; yet not fully, since what she desired had been
flung to her as a bone to a dog. In the panic-stricken flight from the field
she carried with her the spoils of victory and something less desirable. The
price of her good name, the security of her position, the entire triumph--
these, as she well knew, had been gained by shameful self-surrender.
Indeed, it could scarcely be called a victory, seeing that she had succumbed
to the masterful brutality of her enemy. Nevertheless--and she derived
comfort from the thought--it could not be termed a defeat. Her social glory
yet flamed unextinguished; her character could not be smirched, and she
could yet hold up her head to flout the found-out of her sex. But something
bitter spoiled the flavour of these sweets. She had lost her belief in the
fetish; its spell of good luck was broken; her nerve was gone, and with it
self-respect. All she desired was to hide herself amongst familiar
surroundings, that their very familiarity might fence in her quailing soul
from impossible danger. And that the danger could be so described by her
intellect revealed a demoralised will.

The cypher letters attesting her share in the conspiracy she destroyed by
fire. They were genuinely those she had written, and the number was
correct, so, when their ashes floated up the chimney, Leah drew the long,
deep, relieved breath of one whose chains have been struck off. Yet, even at
the moment of release, she shuddered to the core of her being. The ghost of
a futile crime was laid, but the ghost might return. Demetrius had truly
parted with all tangible evidence, and his unsubstantiated story would be
whiffed away as too romantic for belief. Moreover, M. Aksakoff, for the
sake of his own good name, and that of his Government, would swear to her
innocence of this gross intrigue. She was safe--absolutely, entirely, and
wholly safe. The world would never know how she had capered on the
verge of an abyss, or how nearly she had missed her footing. But
something--her conscience probably--told her that an unseen Judge was
summing up her delinquencies; that she was being weighed in the balance
and would be found wanting, even though her kingdom did not pass from
her. This Judge, impartial, terribly quiet, severely righteous, might have
been God; and He was God, although she refused recognition. Her
tormented soul inspired her with the dread of an all-seeing and condemning
eye; but she resolutely declined to admit the Maker, the Judge, or the
Unseen in any way. Shadows should not frighten her, for these were not of
the eating, drinking, merry-making world. All the same, shadows, elusive
and unexpected, did strike terror to her guilty heart, and she reluctantly
knew herself to be a broken woman. In those earlier hours of safety this
knowledge was very insistent.

The week of her retirement passed pleasantly enough. She doctored her
bruised lips, mended their torn skin, and argued occasionally with her
shameful soul. The quiet life of silent hours in the midst of civilised balms
partially restored her courage, but not as entirely as she could wish. Piecing
her broken nerves together as best she could, she strove to remount the
pinnacle of supreme and self-sufficient egotism whence she had fallen. But
Humpty-Dumpty could not be set up again, try as she might to replace him.
During those brooding hours Leah recovered much, but not all. The week's
end found her cured of the skin-deep blow, and outwardly the same
insolent, radiant beauty of an adoring world. But she knew herself to be a
changed being; the pantheress had become a hare, although less innocent.
The sword of her tongue was still sharp, but the shield of self-righteousness
was broken, and a keen-eyed antagonist sufficiently assertive could have
reduced her to the same moral pulp that the interview with Demetrius had
left her. Woe to the vanquished indeed! What remained but that she should
receive the wooden foil of retirement from Destiny and leave the arena for
ever. Her soul protested against this tame submission, so with indomitable
courage she braced herself to further battle. With the world, that is, not with
Demetrius. His abominable kiss had sapped her forces. She could face
social enemies, she could defy the Eternal, she could encounter the fiends
of hell, but not the man who had flung her into the dust--who had trailed
her, and was still trailing her, at his chariot wheels. Certainly he had
steamed into the unknown, and she would never behold him more. But his
black influence remained and made itself felt at untoward moments.

Jim paid his promised visit almost at the end of her seclusion, and was
disposed to be disagreeable on the plea that his wife had lied unnecessarily.
Being truthful himself, when there was nothing to be gained by swerving
from the path of rectitude, Jim abhorred a wasted fib, and proceeded to
condemn Leah for shooting an aimless arrow from her mental quiver. It was
the most pensive hour of the summer twilight when Jim began his sermon,
and he preached in his wife's sitting-room. Darby sat beside Joan, who lay
languidly on a sofa. What a perfect and touching picture of connubial
felicity! If only a reporter of backstair gossip had been present to describe
this middle-class domesticity of these great leaders of fashion, Brixton
might have learned an edifying lesson from Belgravia.

"Now I do call it hard on a fellow," complained the Duke--"jolly hard--that

you can't talk straight, Leah."

"If I did you would scarcely feel flattered. What is it now?"

"Aksakoff! Says he was never near Southend. Swore till all was blue that
he'd never set eyes on that girl for months an' months."

"A sad deprivation for so affectionate a father."

"Well, then, he wants to know where she is."

"How should I know?" replied the Duchess, indifferently. "She chose to

remain at Southend, and I returned here alone."

"What were you doin' at Southend?"

"That is my business, Jim!"

"Mine also. You said something that wasn't true."

"Really? The Accuser of the Brethren in the pulpit with a vengeance!"

The Duke stared. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am quite sure you don't. Stop talking, please. I am too ill to be worried."

"Rats," said Jim, elegantly; "you look like a picture.*

"Then permit me the privilege of one, and do not ask for replies."

The Duke strolled to the window in a huff, and surveyed his property with
sulky looks. Leah sat up on her sofa and pondered as to how much she
should say and how much leave unsaid. Jim had always been under the
impression that Demetrius had done his dirty work for money, and the truth
would not probably strike him as amusing. Leah could easily have
conceived and told a pretty fairy tale, as she was always resourceful in the
way of fiction; but the sight of his pink, fatuous face filled her with rage.
Why should he be a beast with women, and she a vestal with men? Was not
sauce for the gander sauce for the goose also? She determined to tell him
the whole brutal affair, with certain reservations concerning the betrayal of
Demetrius. Jim had few moral scruples, but what he had would be averse to
the betrayal of an accomplice, however dangerous. Yes; she would tell him
enough to annoy him, and shake him out of his aggravating complacency.
Also she wanted some one in whom to confide. But how to bring up the
subject again without pandering to her husband's desire to be master?

He gave her the chance immediately. Like a bulldog, Jim never let go of
anything he had once gripped. Into his thick head had crept some idea of a
mystery, connected with Southend and with his wife's visit thereto.
Therefore he stared out of the window until he thought she was more
amenable to reason, and then came back to his seat with the old question.

"Why did you go to Southend?" he asked, doggedly.

Leah, not yet ready, fenced. "I told you why I went."

"No, you didn't. Aksakoff says----"

"Of course he does. Did you ever know a diplomatist who told the truth?"

"Huh! That comes well from you, considering."

"I never knew that white lies were political privileges. Besides, Aksakoff is
too ashamed of Katinka to tell the truth."

"What's she been doin'?" asked the Duke, alertly. He had the soul of a
knitter in the sun for gossip.

"Rescuing Demetrius," answered Leah, curtly.

"What!!!" Jim turned white and purple and red and green like a rainbow,
and spluttered at the mouth. His wife, eyeing him coldly, did not think this
exhibition of genuine fear a pretty sight. "He'll--why, he'll--tell," gasped
Jim, gulping down an extremely serviceable word, which better fitted his
feelings than surroundings.

"Of course."

"It's a question of money, I suppose."

"No, it isn't."

"But you told me----"

"What I chose to tell you. I always do."

Was there ever such a trying woman? Jim gulped down another out-of-place
oath, and strode noisily up and down the room. He halted at intervals to tell
his wife precisely what he thought of her. As the room was isolated, and
there was no danger of eavesdropping servants, he indulged in a raised
voice and a flow of language which revealed his very limited vocabulary.
Leah, with her chin on her knuckles and a round elbow on the sofa cushion,
listened unmoved, and looked as though she were having her photograph
taken. Jim might have been executing his dance before a graven image for
all the emotion she showed.

"I've had enough of this," shouted his Grace, maddened by a disdainful

silence. "Just you explain, or I'll--why, hang it, I'll forget that I am a
gentleman."

"It seems to me that you have forgotten."

"Oh! You would drive a saint mad."

"Lionel is perfectly sane, and he is the sole saint I have met."

"Ain't you afraid of my striking you?" demanded Jim's bulldog nature.

"Horribly afraid. Can't you see how I tremble?"

Poor Jim. He was quite at the end of his resources. Mrs. Penworthy always
quailed, when he was in his tantrums; Lady Sandal fought fairly and
squarely, slang for slang: but this calm, smiling she-fiend only sat like a
dummy, waiting for him to do what she very well knew he would never
dare to do.

"I wonder if you're a woman," groaned the Duke, returning beaten and
baffled and completely exhausted to his chair.

"I wonder, too, seeing what you have made me put up with."

"Come, now, I've always treated you well."

"And other women better."

"What other women?" growled Jim, on his guard.

"You know very well."

"I don't. I know nothin', not even why you're bullyraggin' me. I swear,"
cried Jim, pathetically, to the ceiling, "that it's uncommonly hard for a
cheery chap like me to be tied to a woman who--who--who----" Here words
failed him, and he gasped.

"Go on. I admire your descriptions of my personality. They are so

extraordinarily vivid and true."

"Who ain't what she ought to be."

Leah's opportunity to break the ice had come, and locking her hands
together, she gazed pensively at the Duke, who wriggled uneasily on his
seat. "How did you guess, Jim?"

"Guess what?" demanded the tormented man.

"That I am not what I ought to be."

The Duke stared aghast. "Then you ain't t" he shouted.

"Dr. Demetrius might say so."

"Leah!" He sprang up with clenched fists and his face took on a direfully
black expression, which rejoiced her heart.

"Jim, I believe--really, I believe that you have some love for me after all."

"Oh, hang your fine talk. Demetrius?"

"I have kissed him."

"He dared to kiss you?"

"I dared to kiss him."

"You devil!" He suddenly raised his fist. Leah never winced, although he
towered over her with his mouth working and his eyes animal in their
unconsidering passion. It was impossible to strike, although his heart cried
out that she ought to die. With an oath--it came out savagely this time--the
fist dropped. "I'll have a divorce," muttered Jim, and plunged for the door.

"Because I kissed a man. Nonsense."

"Kissin' doesn't stop at kissin'."

"Not with you, perhaps."

"Leah!" he turned and reclosed the door, which his rage had wrenched
open. "I know you've got a beastly tongue, and all that; but I could have
sworn that you were as pure as my mother."

"Well, and so you can."

"What? After you confessin' that you kissed Demetrius?"

"Ugh!" Leah shuddered, as a picture after the style of Wiertz rose to her
mind's eye. "I kissed a thing which was once Demetrius."

"Is he dead, then?"

"Better if he were. Ugh! That kiss was the most horrible thing I ever had to
do in my life."

"Why did you do it, then?"

"I was forced to," she said faintly, and nausea made her place a
handkerchief suddenly to her lips.

The Duke returned for the third time to his seat and looked into her
changing face with round inquiring eyes. "There's somethin' in this I don't
catch on to," he muttered; then, with gruff tenderness, and a timid caress
from which Leah did not shrink, "What is it, old girl?"
The Duchess laughed. It was amusing to find her husband playing the
spring bachelor. "I believe you love me," said she, recovering her colour.

"You know I do, only you keep me at arm's length."

"Have I not cause?"

"You wouldn't have, if you behaved as a fellow's wife should," said the
Duke, bluntly. "Drop skirtin' round the bush and plunge in."

Leah admired and respected him in this peremptory mood, and for once
showed no disposition to use her sharp tongue. Instinct told her that she had
at length reached the end of Jim's tether, and that her easy-going bulldog
was inclined to curl his lips. Therefore did she relate picturesquely and half-
truthfully all her doings since the beginning of things in the gallery. For the
time being her story broke off with the return of his Grace.

Jim listened with praiseworthy self-control. He certainly growled and

scowled at the relation of that early loss, which had bound Demetrius to the
service of the woman who betrayed him; but her artless confession robbed
the butterfly caress of half its iniquity. Sometimes he grunted admiration of
her pluck during the perils of his absence, and grinned when she detailed
the melodramatic interview with Strange. Most of the time his eyes
searched her face to make certain that she was telling the truth. He believed
she was, although she kept back the precise way in which Demetrius had
departed for Siberia. But she laid enough of this particular blame on
Aksakoff's back to make Jim swear.

"The mean, dirty, foreign hound," cursed Jim, between his teeth. "I don't
pretend to be an angel, but if I'd dropped to that----" he shook his fist with a
scarlet face. "An' to think Aksakoff should dare to make use of your room--
the rotten cur. I'll tell him what I think."

"Better not, Jim. Let sleeping dogs lie."

"Sleepin' mongrels," muttered the Duke. "All right; but don't you ever speak
to him again. Do you hear?"
He blared out the order in a regimental manner, and Leah nodded.

"Yes, dear," she said meekly, "we must draw the line somewhere."

Jim nodded and gloomed, and rumbled something about Aksakoff that
certainly was not a benediction. Then he harked back to his leading
question, which had not yet been answered. "Why did you go to Southend?"

"Katinka, who had rescued Demetrius from Sakhalin Island, made me go to

see him. I had to obey, else there might have been trouble. The man was ill
on board Strange's steamer."

"Strange? Thought we paid the cad."

"We did." Leah frowned at the recollection of the sum. "But he had some
liking for Demetrius, and helped him to escape, worse luck."

"Come now, don't say that. Siberia----" Jim shuddered. "Beastly place,
Siberia."

"Nonsense. The climate is quite decent if you make up your mind. I don't
believe those convict creatures suffer so much as they say."

She told the lie without sign of emotion, but all the same felt an inward
qualm at the memory of the doctor's terrible narrative.

The Duke chewed his moustache meditatively. "An' you saw Demetrius?"

"Ugh!" Leah covered her face and rocked. "To live with that in my
thoughts, and to think that I kissed It."

"Why did you?" demanded Jim, furiously.

"To get the cypher letters connected with the insurance plot," she replied,
looking up; then detailed with necessary suppressions the greater and least
repulsive part of her nauseous visit to the tramp steamer. The story sounded
by no means pretty, and all her courage was necessary to enable her to
arrive at finis.
When she did the Duke sprang up in a pelting rage. "My wife to be treated
like that!"

"Oh, the treatment was not so bad," lied the Duchess, easily. "Of course, my
mouth was sore with the fall on the stairs, but I managed to touch the lips of
that--that---- Ugh! ugh!"

"I'll go to Southend to-morrow," announced the Duke, frowning. "I can't

thrash Demetrius, poor devil, but I'll hammer the life out of that second-
hand skipper."

"You won't find the boat there, Jim. I made inquiries, and learnt that it left,
as Demetrius said it would, shortly after my visit. And we are quite safe.
That kiss----"

"Leave the kissin' alone," cried Jim, turning on her fiercely. "Of course, I
see you couldn't quite help it; but----"

"No 'but' at all," contradicted Leah, sharply. "If I hadn't bought back those
cypher letters in that way the whole story might have come out. And then,
Jim--well, you know."

"I do--I do." Jim groaned and dropped on the sofa beside her. "Oh, what
fools we were to go into that insurance business!"

"It was my fault, dear. Don't worry. Demetrius will die soon, and Strange
has his blackmail. We are entirely safe."

"Katinka?"

"Oh," said the Duchess, with a flippancy she was far from feeling, "I
suppose shell sit by the grave of that man for the rest of her days."

"You're sure he's dyin'?"

"Yes!" She turned pale, and her voice quavered. "Such an object could not
possibly live. It would be a--a--sin."

"What's his trouble?"

"I don't know--I can't say. I don't want to say. It's--it's too beastly for words.
Ugh! He looked--looked--oh!" Leah's mouth worked like a rebuked child,
and she burst into tears--into real womanly tears of shame and terror and
outraged modesty. "That horrible kiss--oh, that horrible kiss!" she wailed,
pinching his shoulder in her hysterical emotion.

"Poor old girl," said Jim, softly, and put his arm round her.

For once she appreciated marital sympathy, and learned that woman was
not made to live alone. Leaning her cheek thankfully against the rough
tweed of his coat, she sobbed vehemently, a frightened and crushed
creature. Jim felt that he was a married man after all, and administered gruff
consolation. It worried him to see this high-spirited woman break down so
utterly. "There, there," said he, tenderly; "it's all right, old girl. You've got
me."

"Thank God," murmured the beaten atheist.

Jim thought she must be going out of her mind. "What's that?" That she
should thank a God she did not believe in, and for a husband whom hitherto
she had always scorned, quite frightened him.

"What's that, Leah?" he asked again.

"Thank God for you," sobbed the Duchess, brokenly.

"Oh, my aunt," muttered the startled husband; then proceeded to fresh

consolation: "Well, then, I'll break the head of any bounder who dares to say
a word against you."

"Yes; but I'm afraid we're wicked, Jim."

"Other people are as bad," said the Duke, stoutly, "though I don't suppose
we'd get a Sunday School prize. 'Course it ain't much good racin' in
blinkers. We're a bad lot, the pair of us. I've behaved like a rotter, and
worse, while you're like something I can't think of. Seems to me, Leah,
we've been runnin' awf'ly crooked. Let's make a fresh start from scratch,
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

ebookbell.com