Part 43 (1/2)

'Mrs. White,' said Jemima, opening the drawing-room door.

'Wright,' said the visitor, as she walked in--'Mrs. Violet Wright.'

Maude rose with her pleasant smile. It was a peculiarly sweet and kindly smile, for it was inspired by a gentle womanly desire to make things pleasant for all who were around her. Amiability was never artificial with her, for she had the true instincts of a lady--those instincts so often spoken of, so seldom, so very seldom seen. Like a gentleman, or a Christian, or any other ideal, it is but a poor approximation which is commonly attained.

But the visitor did not respond to the pretty gesture of welcome, nor did her handsome face return that sympathetic smile. They stood for an instant looking at each other, the one tall, masterful, mature, the other sweet, girlish, and self-distrustful, but each beautiful and engaging in her own way. Lucky Master Frank, whose past and present could take such a form; but luckier still if he could have closed the past when the present opened. The visitor was silent, but her dark eyes looked critically and fixedly at her rival. Maude, setting the silence down to the shyness of a first visit, tried to make matters easier.

'Please try this armchair. No doubt you have had a tiring walk. It is still very warm in the afternoons. I think it was so kind of you to call.'

A faint smile flickered upon the dark face.

'Kind of me to call!' said she.

'Yes; for in a rising place like Woking, with so many new arrivals, it must be quite a task for the older inhabitants to welcome them. I have been so surprised by the kindness which every one has shown.'

'Oh, I see,' said her visitor, 'you think that I live here. I have really just come down from London.'

'Indeed,' said Maude, and awaited an explanation. As none was forthcoming, she added, 'You will find Woking a very nice place.'

'A nice place to be buried in, alive or dead,' said her visitor.

There was something peculiarly ungracious in her tone and manner. It seemed to Maude that she had never before been alone with so singular a person. There was, in the first place, her striking and yet rather sinister and voluptuous beauty.

Then there was the absolute carelessness of her manner, the quiet a.s.sumption that she was outside the usual conventionalities of life.

It is a manner only to be met in English life, among some of the highest of the high world, and some of the highest of the half world.

It was new to Maude, and it made her uncomfortable, while mingled with it there was something else which made her feel for the first time in her life that she had incurred the hostility of a fellow- mortal. It chilled her, and made her unhappy.

The visitor made no effort to sustain the conversation, but leaned back in her chair and stared at her hostess with a very critical and searching glance. Those two questioning dark eyes played eagerly over her from her brown curls down to the little s.h.i.+ning shoe-tips which peeped from under the grey skirt. Especially they dwelt upon her face, reading it and rereading it. Never had Maude been so inspected, and her instinct told her that the inspection was not altogether a friendly one.

Violet Wright having examined her rival, proceeded now with the same cool attention to take in her surroundings. She looked round deliberately at the furniture of the room, and reconstructed in her own mind the life of the people who owned it. Maude ventured upon one or two conventional remarks, but her visitor was not to be diverted to the weather or to the slowness of the South-Western train service. She continued her quiet and silent inspection. Suddenly she rose and swept across to the side-table. A photograph of Frank in his volunteer uniform stood upon it.

'This is your husband, Mr. Frank Crosse?'

'Yes, do you know him?'

'Slightly. We have mutual friends.' An ambiguous smile played across her face as she spoke. 'This must have been taken after I saw him.'

'It was taken just after our marriage.'

'Quite so. He looks like a good little married man. The photograph is flattering.'

'Oh, you think so!' said Maude coldly. 'My own impression is that it fails to do him justice.'

Her visitor laughed. 'Of course that WOULD be your impression,' said she.

Maude's gentle soul began to rise in anger.

'It is the truth,' she cried.

'It is right that you should think so,' the other answered, with the same irritating laugh.