The Dream and the Glory by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788670715
Publisher: PublishDrive
Published: 2018-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

After Mark had left the room Cordelia stood staring at the door, as if she felt that it held the answer to the turbulent feelings within her.

Instinctively her hands went to her breasts. Then she walked towards the window to look out with unseeing eyes at the small flower-filled garden.

She knew as if a voice from Heaven had spoken that this was love!

This was what she had been seeking.

This was the realisation of her dream.

She had found the man who could bring her the love that had subconsciously been part of her thoughts although she had not been aware of it.

She had always known that when she found love it would be, as Mark had said, Divine.

She felt herself quiver as she remembered and felt again the strange inexpressible wonder he had aroused in her.

She had not known that a man’s lips could be so firm and yet while he had held her captive she had not been afraid.

She admitted to herself that she had wanted him to go on kissing her, to feel the incredible enchantment of being close to him and of knowing that her whole being responded to an ecstasy that came from her heart.

“I love – him!” she said aloud in a voice that trembled.

She felt as if the sunshine was suddenly more brilliant, the flowers more colourful and the music of the birds and bees joined in a paean of joy.

This was love! It illumined the whole world and Heaven itself, and she knew that, as she had foreseen, she had grown from a child into a woman.

How long she stood there gazing out into the garden she had no idea. She only knew that a happiness not of this world enveloped her like an aura of light.

It was not much later that the Countess came to find her and was surprised that she was alone.

“Has your cousin already left, Lady Cordelia?”

With an effort Cordelia managed to reply in what was almost a normal voice that Captain Stanton had been called away.

“Is there anything special you wish to do this morning?” the Countess enquired.

“I would like, if it is no trouble, to go to the shops,” Cordelia answered. “I suspect that my brother will be too busy to visit me.”

“I am sure he will,” the Countess replied with a smile. “Novices find their time fully occupied. It is only when they have taken the vows and finished their ‘caravans’ that time lies heavy on their hands.”

“How many Knights are there here in Malta?” Cordelia asked.

“About four hundred,” the Countess replied, “but of those two hundred are French.”

“As many as that? And the rest?”

“Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Bavarian and German.”

Cordelia did not say anything, but she could not help feeling that if the rumours of war with Bonaparte were to be believed it would surely be extremely difficult for the French to fire on their own countrymen.

But she told herself that she was being needlessly apprehensive when she walked with the Countess through the narrow crowded streets and climbed the long flights of stone steps overhung with balconies brilliant with flowers.

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