Part 28 (1/2)

”I am most ordinary,” she said; and she wondered why she was not angry with him, which she quite well could have been.

”It is only perfect balance in all things, if we but know it, which appeals to the sane eye,” he went on, pulling himself up. ”All weariness and satiety are caused in emotion; in pleasure in persons, places, or things; by the want of proportion in them somewhere which, like all simple things, is the hardest to find.”

”Do you make theories about everything, Mr. Markrute?” she asked, and there was a smile in her eye.

”It is a wise thing to do sometimes; it keeps one from losing one's head.”

Lady Ethelrida did not answer. She felt deliciously moved. She had often said to her friend, Anne Anningford, when they had been talking, that she did not like elderly men; she disliked to see their hair getting thin, and their chins getting fat, and their little habits and mannerisms growing p.r.o.nounced. But here she found herself tremendously interested in one who, from all accounts, must be quite forty-five if not older, though it was true his brown colorless hair was excessively thick, and he was slight of build everywhere.

Now she felt she must turn the conversation to less personal things, so:

”Zara looks very lovely to-night,” she said.

”Yes,” replied the financier, with an air of detaching himself unwillingly from a thrilling topic, which was, indeed, what he felt.

”Yes, and I hope some day they will be exceedingly happy.”

”Why do you say some day?” Lady Ethelrida asked quickly. ”I hoped they were happy now.”

”Not very, I am afraid,” he said. ”But you remember our compact at dinner? They will be ideally so if they are left alone,” and he glanced casually at Tristram and Laura.

Ethelrida looked, too, following his eyes.

”Yes,” she said. ”I wish I had not asked her--” and then she stopped abruptly, and grew a deep pink. She realized what the inference in her speech was, and if Mr. Markrute had never heard anything about the silly affair between her cousin and Lady Highford what would he think! What might she not have done!

”That won't matter,” he said, with his fine smile. ”It will be good for my niece. I meant something quite different.”

But what he meant, he would not say.

And so the evening pa.s.sed smoothly. The girls, and all the young men and the Crow, and Young Billy, and giddy, irresponsible people like that, had gathered at one end of the room; they were arranging some especial picnic for the morrow, as only some of them were going to shoot. And into their picnic plans they drew Zara, and barred Tristram out, with chaff.

”You are only an old, married man now, Tristram,” they teased him with.

”But Lady Tancred is young and comes with us!”

”And I will take care of her,” announced Lord Elterton, looking sentimental--much to Tristram's disgust.

Ethelrida seemed to have collected a lot of rotters, he thought to himself, although it was the same party he had so enjoyed last year!

”Lady Thornby and Lady Melton and Lily Opie and her sister are going out to the shooters' lunch,” Laura said sweetly. ”As you are going to be deprived of your lovely wife, Tristram, I will come, too.”

And so, finally good nights were said and the ladies retired to their rooms; and Zara could not think why she no longer found the atmosphere of hers peaceful and delightful, as she had done before she went down.

For the first time in her life she felt she hated a woman.

And Tristram, her husband, when he came up an hour or so later, wondered if she were asleep. Laura had been perfectly sweet, and he felt greatly soothed. Poor old Laura! He supposed she had really cared for him rather, and perhaps he had behaved casually, even though she had been impossible, in the past. But how had he ever even for five minutes fancied himself in love with her? Why, she looked quite old to-night!

and he had never remarked before how thin and fluffed out her hair was.

Women ought certainly to have beautifully thick hair.