" And so, gently soothing the unhappy girl, orphaned in
her heart, Justine Delande escaped to the first essay of her life
in high decorative art. "There is some strange mystery of the past
in all this! He has a heart of flint, this old tyrant!" murmured
Justine, as with fingers trembling in haste she completed a toilet,
which later caused even old Hugh Johnstone to growl "By Gad! This
Swiss woman's not half bad looking!" A last pang, caused by the
keen secret sorrow of not daring to wear her diamond bracelet,
was effaced by the rising tide of indignation in Justine Delande's
awakened heart. There were strange emotional currents fitfully
thrilling through her usually placid veins as she stole a last glance
at herself in the mirror. "A tyrant to the daughter. I warrant that
in the old days he broke the mother's heart! He never mentions her!
Not a picture is here--nothing--not even a memento, not a reference
to the woman who gave him this lovely child! Her life, her death,
even her resting place, are all wrapped in the selfish and brutal
silence of a selfish tyrant! He should have been only a drill
sergeant to knock about the half-crazed brutes who stagger under
a soldier's pack over these burning plains!" It suddenly occurred
to her that in some mysterious way Major Alan Hawke's coming would
contribute to the rescue of the captive Princess.
Justine Delande really loved her beautiful charge with all the
fond attachment of a mature woman for the one rose blossoming in
her lonely heart.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141