The Australian Detective by Nicole Jones-Dion & Mary Fortune

Author:Nicole Jones-Dion & Mary Fortune
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PraxiScope Press
Published: 2021-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

INEZ WAS MUCH BETTER, at least so she had told them all, and fair Myra went about her little duties like one enchanted by the sweetest of all dreams—a maiden's first pure love. How unconscious was she of the viperous espionage in which she was held all the day, as Inez followed her movements with the large black eyes that could flash an unholy fire and melt with Southern languor at will. An awful suspicion had seized upon the jealous Spanish blood, a suspicion so terrible that her heart nearly stopped when it first occurred to her, and which was strengthened by hints which the fond and proud mother let drop involuntarily, and to which Myra responded most by brightly flushed cheeks.

"I think Myra must be in love," Inez complained crabbedly, as a button of her sister's dress caught accidently in her work and dragged it from her hands. "See what you have done, girl! A whole row ripped!"

"I am so sorry, Inez," replied Myra, with blushing cheeks. "Shall I do the row for you?"

"No, you would only spoil it! Look now, you have pulled out half-a-dozen stitches more!"

"My dear Myra, you must be in love!" Mrs. Balmire said archly.

"Mamma, please don't."

"Be more careful then, dear, or I shall certainly send for Dr. Yorke!"

"Is love a physical complaint, then?" asked Inez, sneeringly, as she kept her eyes grimly on her victim.

"Sometimes. My dear Myra, I am sure you would like to consult Dr. Yorke."

"Mamma, please—please don't," and poor Myra turned hurriedly and left the room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," cried Mrs. Balmire, as she put away her work hurriedly and rose. "It was cruel of me, but I quite forgot. I must go at once and explain to the poor child."

"Stay a moment to enlighten me a little. Pray, what did you forget? Why is Myra behaving in that ridiculous and mysterious manner? Though she is only a child, she is quite old enough to behave a little better."

This was delivered with such an intolerable air of self-respect, and so determinedly deprecative of her darling's sense and sensibility, that all the mother—ay, and the stepmother—was roused in Mrs. Balmire.

"A child! I wonder what you call a child, Inez? Myra is in her twentieth year, and is quite old enough, and quite beautiful enough, to have won the heart you have vainly coveted."

In her rage at hearing this awful confirmation of her worst fears, Inez forgot the point of Mrs. Balmire's retort that would otherwise have wounded her pride too deeply, and she let her work fall to her lap.

"Do you mean Dr. Yorke?" she cried hoarsely. "Do you hint that a man like Dr. Bender Yorke could be taken by such a girl as Myra?"

"I do mean that, if you are so anxious to know," retorted the now really angry woman. "Dr. Yorke worships Myra as no one will ever worship you, and my darling will be a proud and happy wife before many weeks are over her fair head. You

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