Part 46 (2/2)

”As you!” returns she, with a contemptuous glance that fills him with joy.

”Come,” says Mrs. Chichester, calling again to t.i.ta, and patting the chair in question. ”You look tired. This is a perfect lounge.”

”She looks as if she had been crying,” says old Miss Gower, frowning at t.i.ta over her gla.s.ses.

Again that strange pang contracts Rylton's heart. _Has_ she been crying--and because of him?

”Looks! What are looks?” cries Mrs. Chichester gaily. ”Looks always belie one.”

”Certainly Lady Rylton's must belie _her,”_ says Mrs. Bethune, with a slow smile. ”What cause has she for tears?”

”Not one!” declares Mrs. Chichester with decision. ”It would be 'a sinner above all the Galileans' who would make Lady Rylton cry.”

Her queer green eyes smile at t.i.ta, who smiles back at her in her little sweet way, and then all at once bursts out laughing. It is a charming laugh, apparently full of mirth. There are only two present who do not quite believe in it, Margaret and Tom Hescott--but these two love her.

As for Rylton, some instinct causes him at this moment to look at Hescott. t.i.ta's cousin is staring at her, his brows met, his lips somewhat compressed. He has forgotten that people may be staring at him in return, maybe measuring his thoughts on this or that. He has forgotten everything, indeed, except t.i.ta's pale, laughing face and dancing, tear-stained eyes.

”Do you see a ghost?” whispers Mrs. Bethune to him, who has been watching him with cruel amus.e.m.e.nt.

”I don't know,” he answers, hardly hearing her. Is not t.i.ta to-day a ghost of her sweet self? And those words, ”A sinner above all the Galileans!” _Is_ there such a sinner?--and if so, surely it is----

Hescott lifts his eyes to meet those of Rylton. For a moment the two men regard each other steadily, and in that moment know that each hates the other with an undying intensity. Mrs. Bethune, who alone sees the working of the little tragedy, leans back in her chair, and lets her lids fall over her eyes. So still she lies that one might think her sleeping, but she is only battling with a fierce joy that threatens every moment to break its bonds, and declare her secret to the world!

During all this, conversation has been going on. Last night's sayings and doings are on the _tapis,_ and everyone is giving his and her experiences. Just now the rather disreputable wife of a decidedly disreputable neighbour is lying on the social dissecting board.

”She gives herself away a good deal, I must say,” says Mrs.

Chichester, who loves to hear her own voice, and who certainly cannot be called ungenerous on her own account. ”The way she dances!

And her frock! Good heavens!”

”I hear she makes all her own clothes,” says Margaret, who perhaps hopes that this may be one small point in her favour.

Minnie Hescott makes a little _moue_.

”She may possibly make the things that cover her----”

”That _what?”_ questions Mr. Gower, resting innocent eyes on hers, but Miss Hescott very properly refuses to hear him.

”It must be a matter for regret to all well-minded people,” says Miss Gower, shaking her head until all her ringlets are set flying, ”that when making that hideous dress, she did not add a yard or two, to----” She pauses.

”The what?” asks Mrs. Chichester, leaning forward.

”The _bodice!”_ replies Miss Gower severely.

”Oh, auntie!” says her nephew, falling back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. ”You shouldn't! You really shouldn't! It's--it's not delicate!”

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