Part 18 (2/2)
”Dearest Maurice, how could I? I always fancied I treated her with the utmost kindness. But why should we worry about it? No doubt it was a mere girlish fancy, a distaste,” playfully, ”to the terrible mamma-in-law of fiction. Such monsters do not exist now. She will learn that by degrees. You will bring her to stay with me for awhile on your return from your honeymoon?”
”If you desire it.”
”Of course I shall desire it; then she and I will become great friends. You are going? My love to your little _fiancee_, and say I am so charmed, so delighted! And tell her I should like her to come to me for a quiet little talk in the morning about eleven; I shall have no one with me then but Marian.”
”She shall not come to you, then,” says Rylton. A dark red mounts to his brow. What a diabolical thought--to receive those two together!
”Do you _hear?”_ says he imperiously.
”Good heavens, yes!” says his mother, pretending prettily to cower before him. ”What a tone! What a look! What have I done, then?”
”What devilish cruelty is in your heart I don't know,” says he, his pa.s.sion carrying him beyond all bounds; ”but understand at once, I will not have t.i.ta tortured.”
Lady Rylton leans back in her chair and laughs.
”You would have made a good tragic actor,” she says. ”If this little plebeian throws you over after all, you should think of it. You remind me of your father when he was in his most amusing moods.
There, go; kiss t.i.ta for me.” Rylton turns to the door, his very soul on fire with rage. Just as he goes out, she calls to him, with a little soft musical ripple of laughter. ”By-the-bye, take care you do not kiss Marian instead,” says she.
He meets Margaret on his way downstairs. He had walked up and down the pa.s.sages above, in the dim light, with a view to bringing himself back into a state of control, with so much success that, when he comes face to face with Miss Knollys, he seems to her as self-possessed as usual. He had seen her talking to t.i.ta in the hall below, in a somewhat earnest manner, and had taken it for granted that t.i.ta had told her of their engagement.
”Well,” says he, stopping her.
”Well?” returns she, smiling.
”You have heard?”
”Of what? Anything new?” curiously. The very best women are curious.
”Of my engagement; surely she has told you?”
”She? Who? _Marian!”_
”No--_no!”_
Then the truth comes to her.
”t.i.ta?” she says faintly.
He nods his head; words fail him.
”She told me nothing,” says Margaret, recovering herself.
”Yet I saw you talking together just now.”
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