Vyvian say once to grandmamma? It was
that we might not go to Earlescourt at all--that if papa did not
return, or died young, all would go to a Mr. Lionel Dacre, and we
should remain here. Imagine that fate--living a long life and
dying at the Elms!"
"It is all conjecture," said her sister. "Try to be more
contented, Beatrice. We do not make our own lives, we have not
the control of our own destiny."
"I should like to control mine," sighed Beatrice.
"Try to be contented, darling," continued the sweet, pleading
voice. "We all love and admire you. No one was ever loved more
dearly or better than you are. The days are rather long at
times, but there are all the wonders and beauties of Nature and
art."
"Nature and Art are all very well," cried Beatrice; "but give me
life."
She turned her beautiful, restless face from the smiling sea; the
south wind dancing over the yellow gorse caught up the words
uttered in that clear, musical voice and carried them over the
cliff to one who was lying with half-closed eyes under the shade
of a large tree--a young man with a dark, half-Spanish face
handsome with a coarse kind of beauty.
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