The Temptress

by William Le Queux

25,000francs upon the day a decree of divorce is pronounced absolute againstme."

  Blotting it hastily, she returned and handed it to him.

  "That'll do," he said, folding it, and transferring it to hisbreast-pocket.

  "But you will also give me an undertaking," she suggested, for she wasastute, and determined that he should not have absolute power over herin the event of the collusion being discovered.

  "As you please," replied her husband, after a moment's hesitation, andseating himself, he wrote an agreement promising to obtain the decree inconsideration of the sum stated.

  Once more Valerie had triumphed.

  She had thought, on her husband's sudden appearance, that she hadencountered that grain of sand which had before brought her to theground, yet her audacity had conquered.

  "Fool!" thought she, as his pen travelled over the paper. "He will beglad afterwards to buy back each drop of ink with his own blood. Howdear a pen-stroke may cost one!"

  Captain Willoughby, late of Her Majesty's 10th Hussars, had given waybefore a flood of adverse circumstances. Voluntarily, insolently, heflung away his pride and his past. He abandoned himself to thatinfernal thing, temptation; yet, after all, he had long ago sacrificedall that was sincere and grand in his nature. He cared nothing to whatdepth of dishonour he descended, as long as he obtained money.

  "You will depart at once," she said imperatively, "and leave me to myown devices. You can write to me at Brussels, and I will see thatwitnesses are in attendance when the case is heard. Don't remain hereany longer, for my friends may return at any moment, and must notdiscover you. Listen! There's some one coming along the corridor now.Quick!--go!" Snatching a card from a dainty mother-of-pearl case, shegave it to him, adding: "You'll find my address on this. Write to me.Next time we meet we shall not be man and wife."

  "Good-bye, Valerie. May the future be more lucky than the past. Dependupon it, I shall call upon you for payment at a date not far distant,"said the captain; and, taking up his hat and stick, hurriedly left theroom, closing the door behind him.

  His rapid exit was needless, as Hugh Trethowen and his companions hadnot yet returned.

  When he had gone, Valerie's beautiful but pale face was illuminated by asmile of joy. She had proved the victor; she had, by sheer force ofwill, decreed and, as it were, realised the impossible. Was she notright to believe in audacity, in the absolute disdain of all law, sincesuccess was hers in this conflict in which the odds had been so terriblyagainst her? She felt absolutely gay.

  Leaning out of the window watching the passers-by, and gazing away overthe superb valley--a peaceful sunlit, rejuvenescent prospect--she saidaloud to herself--

  "Who, I wonder, invented remorse? What is folly, remorse--the bugbearof man? It scares, but it doesn't bite. What foolery--conscience!I've my conscience and my heart like everybody else, but why should Ireflect over what I've just done? After all, it is nothing--a merecommonplace transaction which will add considerably to my safety andwell-being. Percy renders me a service, and I pay him dearly for it.Hurrah for life! What a magnificent morning!"

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  WINGED HOURS.

  Sheltered from the blazing afternoon sun, Trethowen and Valerie wereseated together under one of the ancient elms in the picturesquePromenade de Sept Heures. It was the hour when visitors lounge in theglade listening to the band and sip absinthe, while their children amusethemselves on the asphalte of the great covered promenade. The end ofthe long, shady avenue is quiet and secluded at this time of the day, asthe exit is only a footpath ascending the steep hillside, and fewpersons come that way, the majority being attracted towards the musicpavilion.

  Valerie, always daintily attired, looked charming in a cool light dressof some soft material, which clung in graceful folds about her, and alarge drooping hat composed entirely of flowers. She was serious,hesitating, and scraped the gravel aimlessly with the ferrule of hersunshade.

  "Ah, you don't know, Hugh," she exclaimed, with a sigh, in reply to aquestion. "I--I've been horribly unhappy."

  "Unhappy," he repeated in astonishment. "Why, what's the cause? Youhave life, gaiety, freedom--everything conducive to contentment."

  "That's true," she answered. "But the past--I must strive to forget it.My whole life has been a series of dire misfortunes--an existencewasted because, until the present, I have never found one whom I couldlove."

  "You really care for me, then?" he asked, looking earnestly into herfine eyes. "You will marry me at once, as you promised a moment ago?"

  "Yes, dear," she said, her face relaxing into a glad smile. "I feelthat, however unpropitious the past may have been, this is theturning-point in my life. Men I have hitherto known have all beenhard-hearted and ready to hear me maligned, but you have sympathisedwith me in my unloved and defenceless position, and I cannot doubt thatwe shall be happy together."

  "Why, of course we shall," he declared, drawing her closer to him, andkissing her through her flimsy veil. "I'm growing impatient to returnto Coombe and settle down comfortably. The hollowness of life in aplace like this palls upon one."

  "Yes; I, too, am getting tired of it. I shall be pleased to go with youto your home. From the photographs it must be a lovely old place."

  "Its antiqueness is its greatest charm," he replied. "But tell me whyare you so unhappy?"

  "Well, would you like to know the truth?" she asked, with a nervouslittle laugh.

  "Of course I should."

  "Then it was because I half-feared you did not care for me sufficientlyto make me your wife," she said hesitatingly.

  "And that caused you all this unhappiness? Well, now you know thetruth," he added gayly, "there need be no more fear on that score. Wewill return to England and be married as soon as possible. Are youagreeable?"

  Replying in the affirmative, she raised her face to his and kissed himaffectionately, almost sadly.

  As she withdrew her lips her teeth were firmly set, for, after all, shethought, was she not participating in a base plot and acting in a vile,despicable character? Yet, notwithstanding, she had caught herselfactually imbued with genuine affection for this man she was pretendingto love. She, a butterfly of fashion, who had been the evil genius ofmore than one man who had fallen victim to her charms, actuallystruggled with her conscience.

  Drawing a deep breath between her teeth, she hesitated. Hugh attributedit to agitation; he little suspected that it was an effort to remainfirm and carry out a nefarious scheme.

  He was weak and captivated by her pretty face, she knew; still, afterall, she could not deny that she, too, loved him, and for the moment shehated herself for practising such vile deception.

  Although a cunning, crafty woman, recognising no law, either of God orman, all sense of honour had not yet been quite obliterated by the manyclever plots and base schemes in which she had participated. All heryouthful enthusiasm came to life again; the heart which she had thoughtdead, beat as it had never before done at the voice and smile of thisstrong, gentle, loyal-hearted man. Her love for him was silent butpassionate; she adored him without telling herself that her right tolove had long ago been forfeited.

  Her beautiful oval face was calm and pale, faultless as that of anItalian Madonna, while her brilliant eyes received additional radiancefrom the lustre of her dark hair. She forgot her past; she felt as ifshe never had but one name upon her ruddy pouting lips--that of Hugh.

  And he sat beside her, saying--

  "I love you--I love you!"

  On both sides it was a blind infatuation. Agony and torture sheunderwent as she put to herself the momentous question--Was shejustified in accepting, when acceptance meant ruin? Was it just? Wasit natural? Were the horrible passages of her life to haunt her,sleeping and waking, to madden her with their hideous vividness? Hadher past deprived her of her right to live--of her right to love?

  Hugh told himself that he had found his very ideal: his dreams, hisfaith, and love in all that is noble
and upright in Valerie's mind,heart, eyes, and tone. She seemed to promise him the commencement of anew existence. With her he might again be happy; he would have some oneto enter into his feelings, stand by him, and bestow on him that trueaffection that all men seek, but few, alas! find. He loved her with allthe strength of his being.

  Suddenly a thought flashed across Valerie's mind, and her resolutionbecame concentrated on it. These were different manifestations of herdual nature. In a moment her lips were set firmly, and seemed silentlyto defy the feelings of affection that had just been stirred sostrangely within her. She was contracting a debt to be paid for by aterrible penalty.

  A glowing sunbeam, penetrating the thick foliage overhead, bathed thehandsome Frenchwoman's light dress