"I managed it with the greatest ease imaginable. He was always trotting at their side. They spoke of him as `the most pious young man.' I have no doubt they were all in love with him. I hope they were. I used to pretend to be very much in love when they were present. I dare say it made them wretched. Besides, they blushed and thought me improper. Basil didn't approve, either, so I hit all round."She rose at this memory and shook out her silk skirts, and walked up and down the room with an air that was the visible expression of the mockery and jealousy in her heart. This was an entirely different Dora to the lachrymose, untidy wife at the Savoy Hotel in London, and Ethel had a momentary pang at the thought of the suffering which was responsible for the change.
"If I had thought, Dora, you were so uncomfortable, I would have asked Basil and you to the Court.""You saw I was not happy when I was at the Savoy.""I thought you and Basil had had a kind of lovers' quarrel, and that it would blow over in an hour or two; no one likes to meddle with an affair of that kind. Are you going to Newport, or is Mrs. Denning in New York?""That is another trouble, Ethel. When I wrote mother I wanted to come to her, she sent me word she was going to Lenox with a friend. Then, like you, she said `she had no liberty to invite me,' and so on. I never knew mother act in such a way before. I nearly broke my heart about it for a few days, then I made up my mind I wouldn't care.""Mrs. Denning, I am sure, thought she did the wisest and kindest thing possible.""I didn't want mother to be wise. I wanted her to understand that I was fairly worn out with my present life and needed a change.
I'm sure she did understand. Then why was she so cruel?" and she shrugged her shoulders impatiently and sat down. "I'm so tired of life," she continued. "When did you hear of Fred Mostyn?""I know nothing of his movements. Is he in America?""Somewhere. I asked mother if he was in Newport, and she never answered the ques-tion. I suppose he will be in New York for the winter season. I hope so."This topic threatened to be more dangerous than the other, and Ethel, after many and futile attempts to bring conversation into safe commonplace channels, pleaded other engagements and went away. She was painfully depressed by the interview. All the elements of tragedy were gathered together under the roof she had just left, and, as far as she could see, there was no deliverer wise and strong enough to prevent a calamity.
She did not repeat to Ruth the conversation which had been so painful to her. She described Dora's dress and appearance, and commented on Fred Mostyn's description of Tyrrel Rawdon, and on Mrs. Denning's refusal of her daughter's proposed visit.
Ruth thought the latter circumstance significant. "I dare say Mostyn was in Newport at that time," she answered. "Mrs.
Denning has some very quick perceptions."
And Ruth's opinion was probably correct, for during dinner the Judge remarked in a casual manner that he had met Mr. Mostyn on the avenue as he was coming home. "He was well," he said, "and made all the usual inquiries as to your health." And both Ruth and Ethel understood that he wished them to know of Mostyn's presence in the city, and to be prepared for meeting him; but did not care to discuss the subject further, at least at that time. The information brought precisely the same thought at the same moment to both women, and as soon as they were alone they uttered it.
"She knew Mostyn was in the city," said Ethel in a low voice.
"Certainly."
"She was expecting him."
"I am sure of it."
"Her elaborate and beautiful dressing was for him.""Poor Basil!"
"She asked me to stay and lunch with her, but very coolly, and when I refused, did not press the matter as she used to do. Yes, she was expecting him. I understand now her nervous manner, her restlessness, her indifference to my short visit. I wish I could do anything.""You cannot, and you must not try."
"Some one must try."
"There is her husband. Have you heard from Tyrrel yet,""I have had a couple of telegrams. He will write from Chicago.""Is he going at once to the Hot Springs?"
"As rapidly as possible. Colonel Rawdon is now there, and very ill. Tyrrel will put his father first of all. The trouble at the mine can be investigated afterwards.""You will miss him very much. You have been so happy together.""Of course I shall miss him. But it will be a good thing for us to be apart awhile.
Love must have some time in which to grow.
I am a little tired of being very happy, and Ithink Tyrrel also will find absence a relief.
In `Lalla Rookh' there is a line about love `falling asleep in a sameness of splendor.'
It might. How melancholy is a long spell of hot, sunshiny weather, and how gratefully we welcome the first shower of rain.""Love has made you a philosopher, Ethel."
