Rose of the World

o his satisfaction completed his psychological analysis of a ruler in chief, he told himself that half a page or so consecrated to one of the pawns in the great chess game of emp

purposeful yet respectful stride, Bethune had approached the Governor and addressed him in an undertone. Sir Arthur had listened and responded with urbanity and condescension. Whereupon the officer

nk of no better topic for opening the conversation with his dissimilar companion th

sonality, our h

do

es d'Anglo-Saxons (as M. Chatelard knew) wanted

ians, hein? The square man in

on to reply; and M. Chatelard, amazed at a silence which he

ble you do n

competent to judge,"

At least, my young friend," he went on aloud, "you have, I trust, yourself no cause to be dissatisfied with his

re quite independent of Sir A

more than British reserve in the almost resentful tone—so

can deceive one's self! Just now I would have sworn, from your attitude, despite y

yes. Nothing connect

nal favo

on it a favour—a mere act

ear sir, an a

ne that could not inte

terests me. It is my trade

oths that were plastered against the walls, Bethune halted a second to survey the sh

hould he not gratify this note-taking traveller with his tale? There was no mystery about it; and a plain statement of the situ

ff abruptly. "You are, I understand, a sedulous observer: did yo

an in silence for a perceptible moment. "Did I notice her Excellency?" he repeated then, in elaborately natural tones. "Why, my dear fellow, it would mean having no eyes not to notice her—one of the most bea

which he had been lighting his c

It is my desire, it is my intention, to write the life of that comrade. I requir

ed the Frenchman, in tones of on

cer, gravely. "To make h

d h

ed to see that she

him before so extraordinary a situation. As he went he regarded the Eng

ife of his comrade! He comes to her with a plan ... a plan of an astuteness to deceive an angel. But the woman who loves is never deceived. Because she loves him, she reads his heart. Virtuous, she refuses.... They are both young, she knows her weakness. She bores herself, yes, she bores herself, but she refuses. And he, what does he do, the young, silent, determined adorer? My faith, it is the simplicity of genius: he goes to the old husband, that the old husband

e aloud, "but you

ura

r lover's task easy to him, nor amusing, hey! With her it will be all or nothing: the grand passion. Ah, my gallant friend, belie

ne's turn to

alling in love with Lady Gerardine?" Then, overcome with the humour

pleased to discover a concentrated bitterness; in

that your programme was a little dangerous. And for one like myself, who has made a study of women, Lady Gerardine is a type—a type

ime the physician was not far wrong in noting bitterness in his ton

nt you. But cold?" s

is white in face," said

will burn to the bone. Ah, it is not the old husband that will feel that fire! But the fire is there, all the fiercer for being concentrated. A

ted Bethune, drily, "and yonder are

tter, interrupted in full eloquence, had had time to lay

figure swing away from light to darkness, down the narrow street dotted with gaudy booth

two seemed to circle in his mind round the baffling image of his friend's widow like a flight of birds round the h

ype="