AN UNINTENTIONAL CUT.
Mrs. Desfrayne then went up-stairs unattended--an arrangement not at
all to her liking, for she would fain still retain all the airs and
customs of a beauty yet in the heyday of sunshiny existence.
She swept one searching glance round the suite of crowded rooms,
seeking the unwelcome figure of Lois Turquand.
It was the work of some minutes discovering Lois. The young girl stood
a little apart from the throng, her graceful head slightly bent as she
listened to the earnest words of a stately dowager, who was probably
congratulating her upon her change of fortune.
There was a dignity and a certain consciousness in Lois’ bearing which
Mrs. Desfrayne had never noticed with her before. She reproached
herself now for having been so uniformly cold and frigid with the girl,
for she adored wealth, and she judged by herself that it was impossible
the new-made heiress could overlook or forgive all the petty slights
she had suffered from the insolent widow.
Mrs. Desfrayne was going to address Lady Quaintree, when Miss Turquand
crossed quickly, not perceiving her. She laid a detaining hand on the
young girl’s arm.
“I am delighted to hear of your good fortune, my dear,” she said, with
a little perceptible embarrassment.
Lois raised her clear eyes, and looked for a moment into the suavely
smiling face before her with an expression difficult to define. Then
she bowed: it was a perfectly gracious but decidedly icy inclination.
She did not answer in words; but, with an ambiguous smile, passed on.
Never for an instant could Mrs. Desfrayne have imagined in her wildest
fancies that the tables could have been so completely turned upon her.
It was a fine moral lesson, only, unfortunately, it fell short of
its mark; and the coldness of Miss Turquand, partly unintentional and
partly arising from habit, made the haughty woman of the world detest
yet more the girl whom she had hitherto simply ignored and noticed
as little as if she had been a piece of furniture of very ordinary
importance.
Mrs. Desfrayne turned pale with rage. She almost wished the old man who
had made the eccentric will had been sunk to the bottom of the sea ere
he had committed his money and his ridiculous desires to paper. _That
girl_ the wife of her son! Truly, she had need be radiant with the
glitter of gold before she could possess any attractions in the eyes of
this proud and ambitious, yet narrow-minded, woman.
Many mothers are quite willing to think with some complacence of
an ideal wife for their sons--a wife to be selected by themselves,
perhaps: a creature of the imagination. But when it comes to be a
matter of sober reality--when there is a real flesh-and-blood being,
not a stone ideal, set before them--why, it is a very different affair.
Mrs. Desfrayne made her way to Lady Quaintree, and promised herself
that she would arrange for a long chat on this absorbing subject, if
she could persuade her good hostess to ask for her company in a drive
round the park.
During the singing of some Italian duets by the artists who had been
gathered together for the night, she contrived to learn a good deal.
One thing she accidentally ascertained which a little modified her
vague schemes and speculations.
She discovered that hitherto Lady Quaintree had been in terror lest her
son Gerald should fall in love with Miss Turquand. Now this would be
the most desirable thing that could happen, even if the young girl were
shorn of half her newly acquired fortune.
Lady Quaintree did not know she was betraying her secret wishes, but
Mrs. Desfrayne was very quick-witted, and at the same time a pattern of
tranquil discretion.
Frank Amberley did not leave the charmed precincts of the house until
he could not stay any longer. The more the object of his passionate
attachment was withdrawn from his reach, the more mad did his longing
become to possess her. But he was an honorable man, and all should be
fair in the fight.
He had closely watched Paul Desfrayne until that young man’s departure,
and the feeling of deep mistrust against him had painfully intensified.
It was with a profound sense of relief, however, that he found neither
Captain Desfrayne nor Lois apparently disposed to cultivate any
approach to acquaintanceship.
For some time before the hour fixed for supper, he had hovered about
Lois, with the hope of being able to offer her his arm down-stairs. The
sharp eyes of Lady Quaintree were on the alert, unfortunately for the
success of his plans, and to his anger and mortification he saw Lois
assigned to a stranger.
As he flung himself wearily into a hansom, and lighted his cigar for
consolation during his journey homeward, Frank Amberley had ample
subject-matter for meditation.
Although not so bitter or remorseful, his thoughts were scarcely more
agreeable than those of Paul Desfrayne.