Now, no protestations!"
For he had possessed himself of the dear little hand again, and was
covering it with kisses--"You see, it is very sweet just now to sit
by the fire together, and look at each other, and feel how happy we
are--but life does not go on like that. And your life, my Aubrey,
belongs to the world . . ."
"To you!--to you!" said Aubrey passionately, "I give it to you! You
know the song?--I set my life in your hand Mar it or make it sweet,--I
set my life in your hand, I lay my heart at your feet!"
Sylvie rose impulsively, and leaning over his chair kissed his
forehead.
"Yes, I know! And I know you mean what you say! I could not imagine
you telling an untruth,--not even in making love!" and she laughed,
"Though there are many of your sex who think any amount of lies
permissible under similar circumstances! And it is just because I
have found men such practised liars, that I have the reputation of
being heartless. Did you ever think me heartless?"
Aubrey hesitated a moment.
"Yes," he admitted at last, frankly, "I did till I knew better. I
was told--"
"Stop! I know all you were told!" said Sylvie, drawing her slim
figure up with a pretty dignity as she moved back to her place by
the fire--"You were told that I was the cause of the death of the
Marquis Fontenelle.
Pages:
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610