Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

40 AINSLEE’S Canon Ebley retorted, in a horrified voice. “I refuse to admit that you are engaged to this gentleman. Your whole conduct has been a scandalous series of deceptions, and you must be ready to return at once with your aunt and your affanced husband. They are following us here now.” Then Stella used a weapon that she had more than once found effectual with her uncle. She flung herself into his arms, and clasped him round the neck. He was a short, portly man, and from this position she began to cajole him—while Count Roumovski looked on with amused calm, and his sister, following his lead, remained unmoved also. Mr. Deanwood was the only restless person. He felt thoroughly uncomfort- able, and bored to death. He hated having been dragged into this family quarrel, and secretly sympathized with his cousin in her revolt at the thought of being Eustace Medlicott’s wife. “Oh, dear Uncle Erasmus!” Stella purred from the highly- perturbed clergyman’s neck, where she was bur- rowing her head, rubbing her peachlike cheek against his whiskered cheek. “Don’t say those dreadful things! | have not deceived anybody; I have known Count Roumovski since the day after we came to Rome, and—and—lI love him very much—and you know | always thought Eustace a bore—and you must agree it is wicked to marry and not to love—so it must be good to—oh, well, to marry the person you do love. What have you to say against aes Canon Ebley tried to unclasp her arms from round his neck. He was terribly upset. To be sure, the girl was very dear to him, and had always been so sweet a niece—a truthful, obedient child from early infancy. Caroline had, perhaps, been a little hard; he had bet-. ter hear the facts. | “Dear me—dear me!” he blurted out. “Well, well, tell me everything about the case, and, though I cannot consent to anything, I must do you the justice of hearing your side.” “Won’t you sit down, then, sir,” Princess Urazov said, “and let my brother and your niece tell you their story? Mr. Deanwood,: we met in Budapest two years ago.” And_ she turned to the young man, and indicated that he should join her in the far win- dow embrasure, which he did with alac- rity, and from there they heard, interpo- lated in their personal conversation, scraps of the arguments going on be- tween the three. Stella, assisted by her lover, told of her first talk and her drive, and their rapidly ripening affection for each other, and the girl looked so happy and so pleading. Then Count Roumovski took up the thread. He explained his position, and how his view of life had always been direct in its endeavor to see the truth and the meaning of things, and how to him love was the only pos- sible reason in ethical morality for any marriage between two people. “It is merely a great degradation otherwise, sir,” he said earnestly. But here Canon Ebley was heard to protest that he could not understand a love which had sprung into being in the space of three days, and he felt very suspicious of its durability. “Oh, Uncle Erasmus, how can you say that!’ Stella interrupted him. “Why, you have often said that you yourself fell in love with Aunt Caro- line from the moment your eye lighted upon her in church—in church, remem- | ber, you old darling.” And she nes- tled up against his shoulder again. Ca- resses like these she was always obliged to suppress in her austere aunt’s pres- ence; they were only to be indulged in upon great occasions, and to gain an, important end, she knew. So the rogue smiled archly as she went on: could hardly wait until you were intro- duced at the garden party next day— and Aunt Caroline said you proposed to her before the end of the week!” “Come, come!” the cornered uncle growled, bridling, but a smile grew in his kindly eyes. “There!” exclaimed Miss Rawson triumphantly. “You cannot have ah- other thing to say except that you con- sent and wish us happiness.” EOPMICLOOO© S tN O11 . (F@