Devil's Wind Read Free Page A

would justify any respectable firm of solicitors in taking up the case; I felt you could not know the truth too soon.”
    Mrs. Lauriston burst into tears.
    â€œNow, Lucy, for mercy’s sake don’t cry. Adela has got herself into a mess, as I always foretold that she would, but we must do what we can. How far has it gone? They are not engaged?”
    â€œOh, no,” sobbed Mrs. Lauriston. “Oh, Helen, dear love, where is my handkerchief? Oh, my dear, what a dreadful thing! Adela is so wilful—”
    â€œAunt Lucy, dear, please—”
    â€œAdela is so wilful. She will make friends that I cannot approve of, Mrs. Willoughby now, and Mr. Manners. Of course being as it were a cousin—only now I come to think of it, it was Mr. Lauriston’s grandmother’s step-mother who was a Miss Manners, so one cannot say that there is any relationship, can one?”
    Helen said, “No, one couldn’t,” and Mrs. Lauriston went on talking and dabbing her eyes, from which flowed a constant effortless stream of tears.
    â€œAnd not being a relation, even if he is legitimate, only I shouldn’t talk of such things to you, Helen, I can say now that there was always something I did not quite like about Mr. Manners. He never seemed to me to be quite—quite straightforward, and of course Adela thought those dark eyes of his so romantic, but to me dark eyes are a little unreliable. Now, blue eyes—so becoming with sunburn—a soldier should be sunburned—and don’t you think, Harriet, that people with dark blood in them are never quite reliable and straightforward?”
    Mrs. Middleton tapped with her foot upon the cabbage-coloured carpet.
    â€œIs Captain Morton sunburned, and has he blue eyes?” she inquired drily.
    â€œHe has, Aunt Harriet,” said Helen with equal dryness.
    â€œAnd so much in love with Adela, and really such a fine man, though I find him just a little trying to my nerves. I never seem to know whether he means quite what he says, or not, and he has a way of fixing his eyes on one that makes one feel as if he were reading all the secrets of one’s past.”
    Mrs. Middleton gave an angry sniff.
    â€œMy dear Lucy, you never had a secret in your life,” she ejaculated, but Mrs. Lauriston took no notice. She had stopped dabbing her eyes, and looked quite cheerful.
    â€œYes, really most piercing eyes,” she murmured, “but when he looks at Adela, it is quite touching, they soften so—his devotion—”
    â€œAnd his prospects?” inquired Mrs. Middleton in tones of sisterly contempt.
    â€œOh, my dear Harriet, he really has a brilliant future before him. He distinguished himself very greatly at the siege of—of—no, I have forgotten the name—Helen, love, what was the name?”
    â€œMultan,” said Helen Wilmot.
    â€œYes, yes—of course, when those two poor men were killed. Captain—oh, dear, it has gone again—Helen love, the names of those two poor fellows. Oh, of course, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Vans Agnew. They were murdered, you know, and that wonderful Major Edwardes collected an army, and Captain Morton was with him, and they did the most extraordinary things, and Captain Morton was wounded in the head—such an escape—”
    â€œYes—yes,” said Mrs. Middleton impatiently.
    â€œOne can’t be too thankful—”
    â€œWell, Lucy, what I should like to know is this—how much is there to be thankful for? He is not dependent on his prospects in the future, and his pay in the present, is he?”
    â€œI think there was an uncle—I think he said an uncle had died and left him something. I know I did not really listen, because I felt so uncomfortable at his telling me—so pointed—and I never thought then—”
    Mrs. Middleton opened her mouth, and then shut it again firmly. She had a strong desire to speak her mind, but a