IN THE SHADOW
Virginia, talking to Miss Byng, found herself ill at ease; her eyes flew frequently to the tall clock, her ears were acute to catch a heavy step and the rumble of a deep voice in the hall; she knew precisely how the voice would sound, how its resonant vibration would roll in megaphonic whispers beneath the vaulted ceilings with their ornate pendants of stucco; her hands fluttered.
Glancing up suddenly as the great clock gave its whirring premonition of the hour, her eyes met Leyden's. He was standing near, in conversation with Lady Maltby. Excusing himself, he came to Virginia.
"You are a tiger lily to-night," he said, his perfect color perception approving the shade of her flame-colored gown with its jet sequins.
"I feel more like the tiger; my ride made me ravenous," she answered with a smile, conscious, but not realizing that her nervousness had fled at the first inflection of the steady voice, and at that instant the sad notes of the clock sounded the hour and before the deep vibrations had drifted from the ear, Virginia heard the resonant tones for which she had been so nervously waiting; at the same moment her eyes met Leyden's. It seemed to the girl that she leaned upon that steady gaze; her nervousness fled away.
"Count Dessalines," announced the footman.
Virginia was conscious of a swift sense of disappointment; more than that—almost of vexation. Struggling with the swollen river, carrying Giles in his great arms—upon the cricket field, potent and replete with action—astride his man-killing stallion, Dessalines had been magnificent. In the drawing-room, in evening dress, he became at first sight, bizarre; when the primary sense of
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