Jalna: Books 1-4: The Building of Jalna / Morning at Jalna / Mary Wakefield / Young Renny Read Free

joke?” But he added — “Then why did the Rajah give her the ring? I can see that Philip didn’t like it.”
    “The Rajah gave her the ring because she saved the life of his son. They were riding together when the boy’s horse bolted. It was a spirited Arab steed and it became unmanageable.”
    The Dean gave what was nearer to a grin than a smile. “And Adeline was a beautiful Irish hussy and she caught the Arab steed and saved the Rajah’s heir,” he said.
    “Yes.” Augusta looked at him coldly.
    “Was Philip there? Did he assist in the rescue?”
    “No, I don’t think he was there. Why?”
    “Well, the Rajah might not have rewarded an upstanding British officer so handsomely.”
    “Frederick, I think you’re horrid!” she exclaimed, and left him to his own sinister musings.
    It was Adeline’s idea to have their portraits painted while they were in England. They might never have another such opportunity. Certainly they would never be handsomer than they were at this time. Above all, she must have a real portrait — no mere daguerreotype would do — of Philip in all the glory of his uniform of an officer of Hussars. To the Hussars and to the Buffs the Whiteoak family had, in times past, supplied many a fine officer but never, in Adeline’s mind, one so dashing, so noble-looking, as Philip.
    The idea was agreeable to Philp too, though the amount he had to hand over to the artist was rather staggering. But his portraits were fashionable, especially among the military class. Not only could he make a uniform look as though it would step out of the frame; he could impart a commanding look to the most insignificant and dyspeptic officer. Where lady sitters were concerned he was at his best with flesh tints, ringlets, and shimmering fabrics. Probably his portraits of Philip and Adeline were the most successful of his career. It was a heartbreak to him that they were to be taken out of England before they could be exhibited at the Academy. He did, however, give a large party to show them in his studio, at which the young people were present. This had been the night before they had seen
The Bohemian Girl
.
    The idea of owning portraits of themselves in their prime had not been all that was in Adeline’s mind when she suggested this extravagance. She knew that it would entail many weeks in London for the sittings and she was determined to have as pleasureful atime as possible while in England. There had been three visits to London. This was their last. Tomorrow they were to return to the quiet cathedral town. Adeline threw herself into a stuffed velvet chair in the hotel bedroom and exclaimed dramatically: —
    “I’m so transported I could die!”
    “You feel too much,” returned Philip. “It would be better if you took things coolly, as I do.” He looked at her anxiously, then added: “You are quite pale. I shall ring for a glass of stout and some biscuits for you.”
    “No. Not stout! Champagne! Nothing so prosaic as stout after that divine opera. Oh, never shall I forget this night! Oh, the heavenly voice of Thaddeus! Oh, how sweet Arline was! Philip, can you remember any of the songs? We must buy the music! Try if you can sing ‘I Dreamt That I Dwelt in Marble Halls’!”
    “I couldn’t possibly.”
    “Try ‘Then You’ll Remember Me.’”
    “I couldn’t,” he returned doggedly.
    “Then — ‘The Light of Other Days!’ Do try that!”
    “I couldn’t — not to save my life.”
    She sprang up, letting her fur-trimmed evening wrap fall to the floor, and began to pace up and down the room. She had a passionate but not very musical voice and little idea of tune, but she managed to get the first bars of her favourite song from the opera.
    “I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
With vassals and serfs at my side —”
    As she sang she raised her chin, showing the beauty of her long milk-white neck. She smiled triumphantly at Philip. Her voluminous light-blue taffeta crinoline swayed about