Part 46 (2/2)

”Oh, I don't know. They were never very fond of this house.”

There was an added note of authority in Mrs. Dressel's accent. In the last few months she had been to Europe and had had nervous prostration, and these incontestable evidences of growing prosperity could not always be kept out of her voice and bearing. At any rate, they justified her in thinking that her opinion on almost any subject within the range of human experience was a valuable addition to the sum-total of wisdom; and unabashed by the silence with which her comment was received, she continued her critical survey of the drawing-room.

”Dear Mrs. Amherst--you know I can't help saying what I think--and I've so often wondered why you don't do this room over. With these high ceilings you could do something lovely in Louis Seize.”

A faint pink rose to Mrs. Amherst's cheeks. ”I don't think my son would ever care to make any changes here,” she said.

”Oh, I understand his feeling; but when he begins to entertain--and you know poor Bessy always _hated_ this furniture.”

Mrs. Amherst smiled slightly. ”Perhaps if he marries again--” she said, seizing at random on a pretext for changing the subject.

Mrs. Dressel dropped the hands with which she was absent-mindedly a.s.suring herself of the continuance of unbroken relations between her hat and her hair.

”_Marries again?_ Why--you don't mean--? He doesn't think of it?”

”Not in the least--I spoke figuratively,” her hostess rejoined with a laugh.

”Oh, of course--I see. He really _couldn't_ marry, could he? I mean, it would be so wrong to Cicely--under the circ.u.mstances.”

Mrs. Amherst's black eye-brows gathered in a slight frown. She had already noticed, on the part of the Hanaford clan, a disposition to regard Amherst as imprisoned in the conditions of his trust, and committed to the obligation of handing on unimpaired to Cicely the fortune his wife's caprice had bestowed on him; and this open expression of the family view was singularly displeasing to her.

”I had not thought of it in that light--but it's really of no consequence how one looks at a thing that is not going to happen,” she said carelessly.

”No--naturally; I see you were only joking. He's so devoted to Cicely, isn't he?” Mrs. Dressel rejoined, with her bright obtuseness.

A step on the threshold announced Amherst's approach.

”I'm afraid I must be off, mother--” he began, halting in the doorway with the instinctive masculine recoil from the afternoon caller.

”Oh, Mr. Amherst, how d'you do? I suppose you're very busy about tomorrow? I just flew in to find out if Justine was really coming,” Mrs.

Dressel explained, a little fluttered by the effort of recalling what she had been saying when he entered.

”I believe my mother expects the whole party,” Amherst replied, shaking hands with the false _bonhomie_ of the man entrapped.

”How delightful! And it's so nice to think that Mr. Langhope's arrangement with Justine still works so well,” Mrs. Dressel hastened on, nervously hoping that her volubility would smother any recollection of what he had chanced to overhear.

”Mr. Langhope is lucky in having persuaded Miss Brent to take charge of Cicely,” Mrs. Amherst quietly interposed.

”Yes--and it was so lucky for Justine too! When she came back from Europe with us last autumn, I could see she simply hated the idea of taking up her nursing again.”

Amherst's face darkened at the allusion, and his mother said hurriedly: ”Ah, she was tired, poor child; but I'm only afraid that, after the summer's rest, she may want some more active occupation than looking after a little girl.”

”Oh, I think not--she's so fond of Cicely. And of course it's everything to her to have a comfortable home.”

Mrs. Amherst smiled. ”At her age, it's not always everything.”

Mrs. Dressel stared slightly. ”Oh, Justine's twenty-seven, you know; she's not likely to marry now,” she said, with the mild finality of the early-wedded.

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