Flower for a Bride Read Free Page A

hostility of her two leading benefactors she had realized, perhaps for the first time, that to them she was nothing much more than a poor relation.
    And because she had accepted benefits it was her duty to repay them when the opportunity arose! That was Aunt Harriet’s attitude, and Jay had looked contemptuously down her exquisitely straight nose and indicated by aloofness that she was rather more than bitterly disappointed. She had believed in the loyalty of a poor relation—particularly a warmhearted and appreciative one like Lois—and was amazed because she could let her down.
    And then when she saw that displeasure wasn’t getting her very far she had burst all at once into extremely realistic tears, and declared that if Lois wouldn’t help her she didn’t know what she was going to do. She simply couldn’t face Dom Julyan de Valerira herself—it wasn’t that she was afraid of him, but she was afraid that he might try and persuade her to go on with the marriage, and where would that lead . . . ? To complete unhappiness for both of them! Surely even Lois could see that . . . ?
    Lois did see it, and also found it quite impossible to ignore the appeal of those tears. Realizing that she was not only being lamentably weak, but aiding and abetting two people of her own blood who should have known better, she said that she would do whatever Jay wanted her to do, and was rewarded with hugs and smiles. She was instantly restored to favor, and even Aunt Harriet forgave her for causing her some extremely anxious moments, and by the time she set off in the car mother and daughter were putting their heads together to think up some more practical expression of their appreciation than the price of her air ticket to Portugal.
    They had granted to Lois the right to say whatever she thought it was best to say to Dom Julyan, so long as Jay’s behavior was not made to look too black; but by the time she arrived at the quinta gates, and was whisked through them at a brisk pace on to a gravelled drive, she had no idea at all what she was going to say.
    The Quinta de Valerira was like so many of those other lightly color-washed houses, save that it was bigger and more impressive when one drew close to it, and very definitely much more dignified. It looked like the small summer palace of a Portuguese noble, and the grounds were exquisitely laid out.
    Lois could see them, through the car windows, dropping away on all sides of her—lawns like terraces, composed of emerald velvet instead of turf, clipped hedges, and graceful pieces of garden statuary. Before the car drew up, she had a swift glimpse of a blue-tiled pool in which a fountain played, and a solid bank of the white flowers she took to be white camellias and which rioted even in cottage gardens. Then the car was stationary at the foot of a flight of steps above which loomed the bulk of the rose-pink house, with its tilted eaves and tall windows opening on to little balconies.
    Lois felt as if her mouth went dry with nervousness when she alighted from the car. A liveried manservant admitted her to the house, and when she said that she wished to see Dom Julyan she thought that surprise flickered across his face, but when she gave her name the surprise vanished.
    The hall of the house was wide and cool, with a marble floor and a vaulted ceiling, and before she was shown into a tiny anteroom opening off it she paused to admire the graceful baroque staircase that wound its way into the upper regions, with portraits climbing the walls beside it. The walls of the anteroom were panelled and painted a soft and restful green, and there were some exquisite examples of birds and flowers executed upon them. The windows, with silk curtains looped back from them, overlooked a kind of interior courtyard where there was another typically Portuguese tiled fountain, and in this case the tiles reminded Lois of pale ochre.
    She was looking with a little uprush of pleasure, which she could not deny,