Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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“Here I am,” said Rowton. “Good morning, sweetheart; give me a kiss, won’t you?”

Nancy raised her trembling lips, then all of a sudden her calm gave way, she flung her arms passionately round Rowton’s neck and burst into convulsive sobs.

“There, darling, there,” he said. He patted her on the cheek, kissed her many times and tried to comfort her, showering loving words upon her, and then kissing her more and more passionately.

“You know,” she said at last in an almost inaudible whisper.

“Of course I know,” said Adrian. “What you feared last night has come to pass—your father’s sufferings are over, he is dead. Peace to his soul, say I. Now it is your duty, Nancy, to take care of yourself and not to fret yourself into an illness. Remember I am here, and it is my privilege and blessing to feel that I have a right to comfort you.”

Nancy with some difficulty disengaged herself from her lover’s arms.

“I have something to tell you,” she said—her face was like a sheet. “Something happened last night after you left, and—Adrian—I am not free to marry you—I am not free to marry anyone! I am a doomed woman; a doom is on me and I cannot be your wife!”