Part 66 (2/2)

”I think she will marry Colonel Neilson.”

”Don't make yourself more absurd than you need be!” says her aunt contemptuously. ”An old maid like that! What could Colonel Neilson see in her? I don't believe a word of that ridiculous story. Why, she is nearly as bad--_worse,_ indeed,” with a short laugh, ”than a widow----like you!”

”I think she will marry him, for all that,” says Mrs. Bethune calmly, with supreme self-control. She takes no notice of her insult.

”You can think as you like,” says her aunt. ”There, go away; I must arrange about seeing that girl.”

CHAPTER X.

HOW ”THAT GIRL” WAS ”SEEN” BY THE DOWAGER LADY RYLTON; AND HOW t.i.tA HELD HER SMALL HEAD VERY HIGH, AND FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT WITH THE ENEMY.

There is scarcely time for Lady Rylton to make arrangements for a private interview with her daughter-in-law, as Mrs. Bethune has scarcely left her room before that small person knocks at the door.

And there is, perhaps, a slight touch of confusion on the older woman's face as t.i.ta enters. She had not had time to prepare the little bitter barbs she had meant to fling against the girl's heart, and is now slightly taken aback.

However, Nature, the All-Mother, has been generous to Tessie in the way of venom, and after a moment or two she tells herself that she will be able to get through this interview with honour.

”My dear t.i.ta. You! So glad! Pray come and sit down.”

”I just came,” says t.i.ta smiling, but hesitating on the threshold, as if desirous of an excuse to run away again as quickly as possible, ”to see if you were quite comfortable--quite happy.”

”Ah, _happy!”_ says Lady Rylton in a peculiar tone. ”Do come in, t.i.ta. It is a fad of mine--a silly one, no doubt--but I cannot bear to look at an open door. Besides, I wish to speak to you.”

t.i.ta closes the door and comes well into the room. She does not seat herself, however; she remains standing near the chimney-piece.

”About what?” asks she promptly.

”About many things.” Perhaps the girl's bluntness has daunted her a little, because, as she says this, she moves uneasily, and finally changes her seat for a low lounge that brings the light on the back of her head. ”I am sorry to say I have heard several unpleasant things about you of late.”

t.i.ta stares at her.

”I don't understand you,” says she.

”Then it must be my unhappy task to have to explain myself,” says Tessie, who has now recovered herself, and is beginning to revel in the situation. The merriest game of all, to _some_ people, is that of hurting the feelings of others. ”For one thing, I am grieved to hear that you have made my son far from happy in his married life.”

A quick red dyes t.i.ta's face. It lasts for a moment only. She controls herself admirably, and, going to a chair, pulls it a little forward in a perfectly self-possessed fas.h.i.+on, pausing a little over the exact position of it, after which she seats herself amongst the cus.h.i.+ons.

”Has Maurice told you that?” asks she.

”Maurice? _No!”_ haughtily. ”In _our_ set husbands do not complain of their wives.”

”No?” says t.i.ta. She looks amused. ”Then who else could it be in 'our set' who has said nasty little things about me? Mrs. Bethune?”

”All this is beside the question,” says the dowager, with a wave of her hand. ”There is something else I must speak of--painful though it is to me!” She unfurls the everlasting fan, and wafts it delicately to and fro, as if to blow away from her the hideous aroma of the thing she is forced to say. ”I hear you have established a--er--a far too friendly relations.h.i.+p with a--er--a cousin of your own.”

If t.i.ta had grown red before, she is very white now.

”I am sure you are not aware of it,” says she, setting her small teeth, but speaking quite calmly, ”but you are very impertinent.”

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