Part 39 (1/2)

”Clara!” exclaimed Mrs. Marvelle warningly. ”You were fond of him once!--now, don't deny it!”

”Why should I deny it?” and her ladys.h.i.+p's dark eyes blazed with concentrated fury. ”I loved him! There! I would have done anything for him! He might have trodden me down under his feet! He knew it well enough--cold, cruel, heartless cynic as he was and is! Yes, I loved him!--but I _hate_ him now!”

And she stamped her foot to give emphasis to her wild words. Mrs.

Marvelle raised her hands and eyes in utter amazement.

”Clara, Clara! Pray, pray be careful! Suppose any one else heard you going on in this manner! Your reputation would suffer, I a.s.sure you!

Really, you're horribly reckless! Just think of your husband--”

”My husband!” and a cold gleam of satire played round Lady Winsleigh's proud mouth. She paused and laughed a little. Then she resumed in her old careless way--”You must be getting very goody-goody, Mimsey, to talk to me about my husband! Why don't you read me a lecture on the duties of wives and the education of children? I am sure you know how profoundly it would interest me!”

She paced up and down the room slowly while Mrs. Marvelle remained discreetly silent. Presently there came a tap at the door, and the gorgeous Briggs entered. He held himself like an automaton, and spoke as though repeating a lesson.

”His lords.h.i.+p's compliments, and will her la's.h.i.+p lunch in the dining-room to-day?”

”No,” said Lady Winsleigh curtly. ”Luncheon for myself and Mrs. Marvelle can be sent up here.”

Briggs still remained immovable. ”His lords.h.i.+p wished to know if Master Hernest was to come to your la's.h.i.+p before goin' out?”

”Certainly not!” and Lady Winsleigh's brows drew together in a frown.

”The boy is a perfect nuisance!”

Briggs bowed and vanished. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle grew more and more restless. She was a good-hearted woman, and there was something in the nature of Clara Winsleigh that, in spite of her easy-going conscience, she could not altogether approve of.

”Do you never lunch with your husband, Clara?” she asked at last.

Lady Winsleigh looked surprised. ”Very seldom. Only when there is company, and I am compelled to be present. A domestic meal would be too _ennuyant_! I wonder you can think of such a thing! And we generally dine out.”

Mrs. Marvelle was silent again, and, when she did speak, it was on a less delicate matter.

”When is your great 'crush,' Clara?” she inquired, ”You sent me a card, but I forget the date.”

”On the twenty-fifth,” replied Lady Winsleigh. ”This is the fifteenth. I shall call on Lady Bruce-Errington”--here she smiled scornfully--”this afternoon--and to-morrow I shall send them their invitations. My only fear is whether they mayn't refuse to come. I would not miss the chance for the world! I want my house to be the first in which her peasant-ladys.h.i.+p distinguishes herself by her blunders!”

”I'm afraid it'll be quite a scandal!” sighed Mrs. Rush-Marvelle.

”Quite! Such a pity! Bruce-Errington was such a promising, handsome young man!”

At that moment Briggs appeared again with an elegantly set luncheon-tray, which he placed on the table with a flourish.

”Order the carriage at half-past three,” commanded Lady Winsleigh. ”And tell Mrs. Marvelle's coachman that he needn't wait,--I'll drive her home myself.”

”But, my dear Clara,” remonstrated Mrs. Marvelle, ”I must call at the Van Clupps'--”

”I'll call there with you. I owe them a visit. Has Marcia caught young Masherville yet?”

”Well,” hesitated Mrs. Marvelle, ”he is rather slippery, you know--so undecided and wavering!”

Lady Winsleigh laughed. ”Never mind that! Marcia's a match for him!

Rather a taking girl--only _what_ an accent! My nerves are on edge whenever I hear her speak.”

”It's a pity she can't conquer that defect,” agreed Mrs. Marvelle. ”I know she has tried. But, after all, they're not the best sort of Americans--”