She sang something that was
like an air of triumph--no under current of sadness marred its
passionate sweetness. Lord Airlie bent over her chair
enraptured.
"You sing like one inspired, Beatrice," he said.
"I was thinking of you," she replied; and he saw by the dreamy,
rapt expression of her face that she meant what she had said.
Presently Lord Airlie was summoned to Lady Helena's assistance in
some little argument over cards, and Beatrice, while her fingers
strayed mechanically over the keys, arrived at her decision. She
would see Hugh. She could not avert that; and she must meet him
as bravely as she could. After all, as Lillian had said, he was
not cruel, and he did love her. The proud lip curled in scornful
triumph as she thought how dearly he loved her. She would appeal
to his love, and beseech him to release her.
She would beseech him with such urgency that he could not refuse.
Who ever refused her? Could she not move men's hearts as the
wind moves the leaves? He would be angry at first, perhaps
fierce and passionate, but in the end she would prevail. As she
sat there, dreamy, tender melodies stealing, as it were, from her
fingers, she went in fancy through the whole scene.
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