Part 46 (1/2)

”It is a voice of heaven!” he said in a rapture.

The fair singer was surrounded with people.

”I hope,” said Mrs. Van Clupp, with her usual ill-bred eagerness to ingratiate herself with the t.i.tled and wealthy, ”I hope you will come and see me, Lady Errington? I am at home every Friday evening to my friends.”

”Oh yes,” said Thelma, simply. ”But I am not your friend yet! When we do know each other better I will come. We shall meet each other many times first,--and then you will see if you like me to be your friend. Is it not so?”

A scarcely concealed smile reflected itself on the faces of all who heard this nave, but indefinite acceptance of Mrs. Van Clupp's invitation, while Mrs. Van Clupp herself was somewhat mortified, and knew not what to answer. This Norwegian girl was evidently quite ignorant of the usages of polite society, or she would at once have recognized the fact that an ”at home” had nothing whatsoever to do with the obligations of friends.h.i.+p--besides, as far as friends.h.i.+p was concerned, had not Mrs. Van Clupp tabooed several of her own blood-relations and former intimate acquaintances? . . . for the very sensible reason that while she had grown richer, they had grown poorer.

But now Mrs. Rush-Marvelle sailed up in all her glory, with her good-natured smile and matronly air. She was a privileged person, and she put her arm round Thelma's waist.

”You must come to me, my dear,” she said with real kindness--her motherly heart had warmed to the girl's beauty and innocence,--”I knew Philip when he was quite a boy. He will tell you what a dreadfully old woman I am! You must try to like me for his sake.”

Thelma smiled radiantly. ”I always wish to like Philip's friends,” she said frankly. ”I do hope I shall please you!”

A pang of remorse smote Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's heart as she remembered how loth she had been to meet Philip's ”peasant” wife,--she hesitated,--then, yielding to her warm impulse, drew the girl closer and kissed her fair rose-tinted cheek.

”You please everybody, my child,” she said honestly. ”Philip is a lucky man! Now I'll say good night, for it is getting late,--I'll write to you to-morrow and fix a day for you to come and lunch with me.”

”But you must also come and see Philip,” returned Thelma, pressing her hand.

”So I will--so I will!” and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle nodded beamingly, and made her way up to Lady Winsleigh, saying, ”Bye-bye, Clara! Thanks for a most charming evening!”

Clara pouted. ”Going already, Mimsey?” she queried,--then, in a lower tone, she said, ”Well! what do you think of her?”

”A beautiful child--no more!” answered Mrs. Marvelle,--then, studying with some gravity the brilliant brunette face before her, she added in a whisper, ”Leave her alone, Clara,--don't make her miserable! You know what I mean! It wouldn't take much to break her heart.”

Clara laughed harshly and played with her fan.

”Dear me, Mimsey! . . . you are perfectly outrageous! Do you think I'm an ogress ready to eat her up? On the contrary, I mean to be a friend to her.”

Mrs. Marvelle still looked grave.

”I'm glad to hear it,” she said; ”only some friends are worse than declared enemies.”

Lady Winsleigh shrugged her shoulders.

”Go along, Mimsey,--go home to bed!” she exclaimed impatiently. ”You are _insense_! I hate sentimental philosophy and copy-book plat.i.tudes!” She laughed again and folded her hands with an air of mock penitence, ”There! I didn't mean to be rude! Good-night, dear old darling!”

”Good-night, Clara!” and Mrs. Marvelle, summoning her timid husband from some far corner, where he had remained in hiding, took her departure with much stateliness.

A great many people were going down to supper by this time, but Sir Philip was tired of the heat and glare and noise, and whispered as much to Thelma, who at once advanced to bid her hostess farewell.

”Won't you have some supper?” inquired her ladys.h.i.+p. ”Don't go yet!”

But Thelma was determined not to detain her husband a moment longer than he wished--so Lady Winsleigh, seeing remonstrances were of no avail, bade them both an effusive good-night.

”We must see a great deal of each other!” she said, pressing Thelma's hands warmly in her own: ”I hope we shall be quite dear friends!”

”Thank you!” said Thelma, ”I do hope so too, if you wish it so much.

Good-night, Lord Winsleigh!”