The Lion's Skin Read Online Free PDF

ma'am. My Lord Rotherby is of a family singularly cautious in the unions it contracts. In entering matrimony he prefers, no doubt, to
leave a back door open for quiet retreat should he repent him later."
    "Your honor has his lordship's acquaintance, then?" quoth the landlady.
    "It is a misfortune from which Heaven has hitherto preserved me, but which the devil, it seems, now thrusts upon me. It will, nevertheless, interest me to see him at close quarters. Come,
ma'am."
    As they were going out, Mr. Caryll checked suddenly. "Why, what's o'clock?" said he.
    She stared, so abruptly came the question. "Past four, sir," she answered.
    He uttered a short laugh. "Decidedly," said he, "his lordship must be viewed at closer quarters." And he led the way downstairs.
    In the passage he waited for her to come up with him. "You had best announce me by name," he suggested. "It is Caryll."
    She nodded, and, going forward, threw open a door, inviting him to enter.
    "Mr. Caryll," she announced, obedient to his injunction, and as he went in she closed the door behind him.
    From the group of three that had been sitting about the polished walnut table, the tall gentleman in buff and silver rose swiftly, and advanced to the newcomer, what time Mr. Caryll made a rapid
observation of this brother whom he was meeting under circumstances so odd and by a chance so peculiar.
    He beheld a man of twenty-five, or perhaps a little more, tall and well made, if already inclining to heaviness, with a swarthy face, full-lipped, big-nosed, black-eyed, an obstinate chin, and a
deplorable brow. At sight, by instinct, he disliked his brother. He wondered vaguely was Lord Rotherby in appearance at all like their common father; but beyond that he gave little thought to the
tie that bound them. Indeed, he has placed it upon record that, saving in such moments of high stress as followed in their later connection, he never could remember that they were the sons of the
same parent.
    "I thought," was Rotherby's greeting, a note almost of irritation in his voice, "that the woman said you were from France."
    It was an odd welcome, but its oddness at the moment went unheeded. His swift scrutiny of his brother over, Mr. Caryll's glance passed on to become riveted upon the face of the lady at the
table's head. In addition to the beauties which from above he had descried, he now perceived that her mouth was sensitive and kindly, her whole expression one of gentle wistfulness, exceeding sweet
to contemplate. What did she in this galley, he wondered; and he has confessed that just as at sight he had disliked his brother, so from that hour—from the very instant of his eyes'
alighting on her there—he loved the lady whom his brother was to wed, felt a surpassing need of her, conceived that in the meeting of their eyes their very souls had met, so that it was to
him as if he had known her since he had known anything. Meanwhile there was his lordship's question to be answered. He answered it mechanically, his eyes upon the lady, and she returning the gaze
of those queer, greenish eyes with a sweetness that gave place to no confusion.
    "I am from France, sir."
    "But not French?" his lordship continued.
    Mr. Caryll fetched his eyes from the lady's to meet Lord Rotherby's. "More than half French," he replied, the French taint in his accent growing slightly more pronounced. "It was but an accident
that my father was an Englishman."
    Rotherby laughed softly, a thought contemptuously. Foreigners were things which in his untraveled, unlettered ignorance he despised. The difference between a Frenchman and a South Sea Islander
was a thing never quite appreciated by his lordship. Some subtle difference he had no doubt existed; but for him it was enough to know that both were foreigners; therefore, it logically followed,
both were kin.
    "Your words, sir, might be oddly interpreted. 'Pon honor, they might!" said he, and laughed softly again with singular insolence.
    "If they have