Mrs. Melrose frequently came in to join Alice for dinner, especially
when she was aware, as to-night, that Christopher had an evening
engagement. She was almost always sure of finding Annie alone, and
enjoying the leisurely confidences that were crowded out of the daytime
hours.
She had had several weeks of nervous illness now, but looked better
to-night, looked indeed her handsome and comfortable self, as she
received Chris's filial kiss on her forehead, and bent to embrace her
daughter. Freda carried away her long fur-trimmed cloak, and she pushed
her veil up to her forehead, and looked with affectionate concern from
husband to wife.
"Now, Chris, I'm spoiling things! But I thought Carry Pope told me that
you were going to her dinner before the opera!"
"I'm due there at eight," he said, reassuringly. "And by the same token,
I ought to be dressing! But Alice and I have been loafing along here
comfortably, and I'd give about seven dollars to stay at home with my
wife!"
"He always says that!" Alice said, smilingly. "But he always has a nice
time; and then the next night he plays over the whole score, and tells
me who was there, and so I have it, too!"
Chris had walked to the white mantelpiece, and was lighting a
cigarette.
"Alice had that little protégée of yours here, to-day, Aunt Marianna,"
he said, casually.
There was no mistaking the look of miserable and fearful interest that
deepened instantly in the older woman's eyes.
"Miss Sheridan?" she said.
"Mama," Alice exclaimed, suddenly, clasping a warm hand over her
mother's trembling one, and looking at her with all love and
reassurance, "you know how Chris and I love you, don't you?"
Tears came into Mrs. Melrose's eyes.
"Of course I do, lovey," she faltered.
"Mama, you know how we would stand behind you--how anxious we are to
share whatever's worrying you!" Alice went on, pleadingly. "Can't
you--I'm not busy like Annie, or young like Leslie, and Chris is your
man of business, after all! Can't you tell us about it? Two heads--three
heads," said Alice, smiling through a sudden mist of tears, "are better
than one!"
"Why," Mrs. Melrose stammered, with a rather feeble attempt at
lightness, "have I been acting like a person with something on her mind?
It's nothing, children, nothing at all. Don't bother your dear, generous
hearts about it another second!"
And she looked from one to another with a gallant smile.
Chris eyed his wife with a faint, hopeless movement of the head, and
Alice correctly interpreted it to mean that the situation was worse
instead of better.
"You remember the night you sent for me, some weeks ago, Aunt Marianna?"
he ventured. Mrs. Melrose moistened her lips, and swallowed with a dry
throat, looking at him with a sort of alert defiance.
"I confess that I was all upset that night," she admitted, bravely. "And
to tell you children the truth, Kate Sheridan coming upon me so
unexpectedly----"
"Joseph quite innocently told me that evening that you had anticipated
her coming!" Christopher said, quietly, as she paused.
"Joseph was mistaken!" Mrs. Melrose said, warmly, with red colour
beginning to burn in her soft, faded old face. "Kate had been associated
with a terrible time in my life," she went on, almost angrily. "And it
was quite natural--or at least it seems so to me!--I don't know what
other people would feel, but to _me_----But what are you two
cross-examining me for?" she interrupted herself to ask, with a sudden
rush of tears, as Chris looked unconvinced, and Alice still watched her
sorrowfully. "Little do you know, either of you, what I have been
through----"
"Mama," entreated Alice, earnestly, "will you answer me one question? I
promise you that I won't ask another. You know how anxious we are only
to help you, to make everything run smoothly. You know what the family
is--to us. Don't you _see_ we are?" Alice asked suddenly, seeing that
the desire for sympathy and advice was rapidly breaking up the ice that
had chilled her mother's heart for long weeks. "Won't you tell me just
this--it's about Annie, Mama. When she was so ill in Munich. Was--was
her little baby born there?"
"Yes!" Mrs. Melrose whispered, with fascinated eyes fixed on her
daughter's face.
Alice, ashen faced, fell back against her pillows without speaking.
"Kate Sheridan brought the child home," Christopher stated, rather than
asked, very quietly. His mother-in-law looked at him apathetically.
"Kate--yes!"
"Does Annie know it, Mama?" Alice whispered, after a silence.
"Annie? Oh, my God, no!" The mother's voice rose almost to a wail. "Oh,
Chris--Alice--if you love me, Annie must not know! So proud, so happy;
and she would never bear it! I know her--I know her! She would kill
herself before----"
"Darling, you must be quiet!" Alice said, commandingly. "No one shall
know it. What we do for this child shall be done for--well, our cousin.
Chris will help you manage everything, and no one shall ever suspect it
from me. It will all work out right, you'll see. Other people aren't
watching us, as we always think they are; it's nobody's business if a
cousin of ours suddenly appears in the family. No one would dare whisper
one word against the Melroses. Only be quiet, Mama darling, and don't
worry. Now that we know it, we will never, never allude to it again,
will we, Chris? You can trust us."
Mrs. Melrose had sunk back into her chair; her face was putty-coloured,
beads of water stood on her forehead.
"Oh, the relief--the relief!" she kept whispering, as she clung to
Alice's hand. "Alice, for the sake of the name--dear--for all our
sakes!----"
"Now, if you two girls will take my advice!" Christopher suggested,
cheerfully, "you'll stop talking about all this, and let it wait until
to-morrow. Then we'll consult, and see just what proposition we can make
to little Miss Sheridan, and what's best to be done. Alice, why don't
you go over that wedding list of Leslie's with your mother? And ring for
dinner. I'm going to dress."
"We will!" Alice agreed, sensibly. "As a family we've always faced
things courageously. We're fighters--we Melroses--and we'll stand
together!"