trembling lips, Monsieur Dupin spoke again. “For this time it is enough. Now you are accustomed. Now you have acquired fluid. Tomorrow we shall do more, much more.”
With Mr. Parthemer’s help, Jennifer succeeded in freeing Mrs. Parsons and herself from the encumbering coil of rope. The worthy gentleman was shaking his head. “Can’t see how this business works. Can’t indeed. Why take a perfectly healthy young girl - rosy and happy, and turn her into this pasty-faced trembler. No sense to it, no sense at all.”
With this sentiment Jennifer was wont to concur. Circumstances preventing a verbal agreement, she smiled instead and was rewarded by an answering smile.
“You and me,” said Mr. Parthemer softly as Mrs. Parsons tottered off to see to her charge, “you and me knows tomfoolery when we sees it.”
Again, Jennifer feared a verbal answer. She could not afford to have her senti-ments concerning Monsieur Dupin re-ported to her employer. For strong and hearty as Mr. Parthemer was, he was nothing but putty in his wife’s hands. And if Mrs. Parthemer should insist on her dis-missal, Mr. Parthemer, much as he might regret it and sympathize with her, would probably concur with his wife.
Jennifer waited silently as the various members of the group made their way out of the Red Room and back to the drawing room. Lady Carolyn, it was plain to see, continued in her aversion to Lord Proctor. Leaning heavily on Ingleton’s arm, she directed all her remarks to that fortunate suitor. His good fortune did not seem to set well on him, at least to Jennifer’s discerning eyes, for she detected some-thing of arrogance in his smile and the glances he directed at Proctor were clearly those of triumph. A little more manners, considered Jennifer, would be more becoming in a man who set up to be a gentleman. Instantly she was assailed by the vision of a tall fair man whose grey eyes regarded her warmly.
Unconsciously she heaved a sigh. “Mademoiselle is unhappy,” said Dupin from behind her and she only just prevented herself from starting violently.
She took a firm grip on herself. “I am simply tired,” she replied, glad that he could not see her face. “The children rise early and I have had a long day.”
“Such a sigh, laden with unfulfilled dreams and desires, does not arise from the customary fatigue of the day,” whis-pered Monsieur Dupin, moving till he stood quite close behind her.
Jennifer held her ground and fought down the discomfort his presence caused her. “You are very poetic, Monsieur, but this time you have erred. My fatigue and my sigh are both of a very prosaic nature.”
“Non, Mademoiselle. I perceive that you do not wish others to know this secret of your heart. But I - I am your friend. I would help you.”
As he spoke Dupin moved even closer, until his lips almost brushed her ear, and he laid his hand on her arm. In spite of her fear of him, Jennifer found herself almost overpowered by an intense desire to tell him her secret. Some power in him seemed to be drawing it from her against her will. Frantically she cast around in her mind for some way to resist this power and found the vision of Haverford's face. With intense relief she felt the compulsion fleeing.
“I assure you, Monsieur Dupin, I am quite healthy, including my heart. And quite happy, too. And now, if you will excuse me, I really must attend to the children.”
Dupin made no further move to keep her, but even as she hurried from him, Jennifer thought she felt those probing black eyes dogging her, seeking her very thoughts. He was evil, she thought as she took her candle and sped up the dim dark stairs, quite evil. And quite powerful. It was a fearful combination and boded no good for anyone in this house.
At the top of the stairs she was startled by Ingleton stepping out of the shadows to accost her. “Miss Whitcomb,” he whispered in the tone of a conspirator.
“Yes, Mr. Ingleton,” replied
With Mr. Parthemer’s help, Jennifer succeeded in freeing Mrs. Parsons and herself from the encumbering coil of rope. The worthy gentleman was shaking his head. “Can’t see how this business works. Can’t indeed. Why take a perfectly healthy young girl - rosy and happy, and turn her into this pasty-faced trembler. No sense to it, no sense at all.”
With this sentiment Jennifer was wont to concur. Circumstances preventing a verbal agreement, she smiled instead and was rewarded by an answering smile.
“You and me,” said Mr. Parthemer softly as Mrs. Parsons tottered off to see to her charge, “you and me knows tomfoolery when we sees it.”
Again, Jennifer feared a verbal answer. She could not afford to have her senti-ments concerning Monsieur Dupin re-ported to her employer. For strong and hearty as Mr. Parthemer was, he was nothing but putty in his wife’s hands. And if Mrs. Parthemer should insist on her dis-missal, Mr. Parthemer, much as he might regret it and sympathize with her, would probably concur with his wife.
Jennifer waited silently as the various members of the group made their way out of the Red Room and back to the drawing room. Lady Carolyn, it was plain to see, continued in her aversion to Lord Proctor. Leaning heavily on Ingleton’s arm, she directed all her remarks to that fortunate suitor. His good fortune did not seem to set well on him, at least to Jennifer’s discerning eyes, for she detected some-thing of arrogance in his smile and the glances he directed at Proctor were clearly those of triumph. A little more manners, considered Jennifer, would be more becoming in a man who set up to be a gentleman. Instantly she was assailed by the vision of a tall fair man whose grey eyes regarded her warmly.
Unconsciously she heaved a sigh. “Mademoiselle is unhappy,” said Dupin from behind her and she only just prevented herself from starting violently.
She took a firm grip on herself. “I am simply tired,” she replied, glad that he could not see her face. “The children rise early and I have had a long day.”
“Such a sigh, laden with unfulfilled dreams and desires, does not arise from the customary fatigue of the day,” whis-pered Monsieur Dupin, moving till he stood quite close behind her.
Jennifer held her ground and fought down the discomfort his presence caused her. “You are very poetic, Monsieur, but this time you have erred. My fatigue and my sigh are both of a very prosaic nature.”
“Non, Mademoiselle. I perceive that you do not wish others to know this secret of your heart. But I - I am your friend. I would help you.”
As he spoke Dupin moved even closer, until his lips almost brushed her ear, and he laid his hand on her arm. In spite of her fear of him, Jennifer found herself almost overpowered by an intense desire to tell him her secret. Some power in him seemed to be drawing it from her against her will. Frantically she cast around in her mind for some way to resist this power and found the vision of Haverford's face. With intense relief she felt the compulsion fleeing.
“I assure you, Monsieur Dupin, I am quite healthy, including my heart. And quite happy, too. And now, if you will excuse me, I really must attend to the children.”
Dupin made no further move to keep her, but even as she hurried from him, Jennifer thought she felt those probing black eyes dogging her, seeking her very thoughts. He was evil, she thought as she took her candle and sped up the dim dark stairs, quite evil. And quite powerful. It was a fearful combination and boded no good for anyone in this house.
At the top of the stairs she was startled by Ingleton stepping out of the shadows to accost her. “Miss Whitcomb,” he whispered in the tone of a conspirator.
“Yes, Mr. Ingleton,” replied
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