Moths by Ouida — page 85: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MOTHS. i 61 CHAPTER IX. VERE had been up with the sunrise, and out with Loris. She - had had the pretty green park and the dewy gardens to herself ; she had filled her hands with more flowers than she could carry; her hair and her clothes were fragrant with the smell of mown grass and pressed thyme; she stole back on tip-toe through the Jong corridors, through the still house, for it was only nine o clock, and she knew that all the guests of Felicite were still sleeping. To her surprise, her mother’s door opened, and her mother’s voice called her. Vere went in, fresh and bright as was the summer morning itself, with the dew upon her hair and the smell of the blos- soms entering with her, and would soon bedying in the warm, oppressive air that was laden with the smells of anodynes and perfumes. Her mother had already been made pretty for the day, and a lovely torquoise-blue dressing-robe enveloped her. She opened her arms, and folded the child in them, and touched her forehead with a kiss. ‘‘My darling, my sweet child,” she mutfmured, ‘‘I have some wonderful news for you; news that makes me very happy, Vera ‘¢ Yes?” said Vere, standing with wide-opened, expectant eyes, the flowers falling about her, the dew sparkling on her hair. ‘¢-Yes, too happy, my Vera, since it-secures your happiness,” murmured her mother. ‘‘ But perhaps you can guess, dear, though you are so very young, and you do not even know what love means. Vera, my sweetest, my old friend Prince Zouroff has sought you from me in marriage’? ‘‘Mother!” Vere stepped backward, then stood still again, a speechless amaze, an utter incredulity, an unutterable disgust, all speaking in her face. ‘Are you startied, darling?” said Lady Dolly, in her blandest voice. ‘*‘Of course you are, you are suchachild. Butif you think a moment, Vera, you will see the extreme compliment it is to you, the greatness it offers you, the security that the devo- tion of a——” ‘‘ Mother!” she cried again; and this time the word was a cry of horror—a protest of indignation and outrage. ‘<Don’t call me ‘mother’ like that. You know I hate it!” said Lady Dolly, lapsing into the tone most natural to her. ‘¢¢ Mother! mother!’ as if I were beating you with a poker, like the people in the police reports. You are so silly, my dear. I cannot think what he can have seen in you, but seen somethmg he has, enough to make him wish to marry you. You are a baby, but I suppose you can understand that. Itis avery great and good marriage, Vera; no one could desire anything better. You are exceedingly young, indeed, according to English notions, but they never were my notions, and i think a gir. cannot any- Eom (é ,00 cS"