“There is nobody at home, sir, but Mrs. de Vere. She is ill, and will
see no one,” said the tidy negro girl who answered the bell.
“She will see us, for we have come from England to see her,” Lady Edith
exclaimed, impetuously; while she wondered why every one had gone away
and left her dear Thea ill and alone.
“Yes, she will see us when she knows our names,” said Lord Stuart,
putting two cards into her hand with a silver coin that made her show
all her fine white teeth in a grin of delight.
“I’ll ask Mrs. de Vere’s maid. She is the mistress here, it seems,”
said the girl, in a tone of discontent. Then she ushered them into a
pretty reception-room. “You can wait here till I find out,” she said.
When they were alone, Lady Edith looked at her brother with questioning
eyes.
“Is it not strange for Mr. de Vere and his mother to leave Thea alone
and sick?” she asked.
“I do not understand it,” he replied; and a cloud of anxiety came over
his face.
He thought of the false telegram that had summoned Norman de Vere to
New York. What if he had never returned? What if there were foul play
somewhere?
He waited most impatiently a few minutes, then the door unclosed, and a
woman appeared on the threshold.
Lord Stuart gave a violent start, for time had scarcely touched
Finette, and in the creature before him he at once recognized Camille’s
maid. He could not repress a slight shudder of disgust when her snaky
black eyes, after sweeping curiously over his sister, fixed themselves
upon him.
“My lord,” she began, with a cringing movement of her supple frame,
“my mistress is sick. She sees no one, but”--with a courtesy to Lady
Edith--“she will see you in her boudoir a few moments if the lady will
excuse her.”
Lady Edith rose quickly, but Finette made her a gesture to sit down
again.
“My lady, it is not you she consents to receive, it is Lord Stuart,”
she said, flippantly; and Lady Edith sunk back in her chair with a low
cry of wounded pride.
Lord Stuart went to her, and with a rare impulse of tenderness kissed
the lovely, disappointed face.
“There is some mistake,” he whispered, soothingly. “It will be
explained, I am sure, as soon as I see Thea. Will you wait here for me
a little while?”
“Yes,” she replied; but as soon as she was left alone she burst into
the bitterest sobs.
Her loving nature was cruelly wounded by this cold and strange
reception, after all her affectionate anticipations of the joyful
welcome she would have from Thea.
Meanwhile, Lord Stuart was following Finette to the boudoir, thinking
how unseemly it appeared that the first wife’s maid should be here in
attendance on Thea.
“I should not like it myself,” he thought; and just then Finette flung
open the boudoir door.
He entered, and found himself in an exquisite apartment, whose
prevailing color was a rich azure. The rich hue and fragrance of
flowers greeted him on every side, but the apartment was untenanted,
and Finette said, apologetically:
“My mistress will be with you in a few moments.”
Then she disappeared into an inner room, and he waited most impatiently
for Thea to enter, wondering why she had declined to see his sister
with himself.
“It is perplexing--nay, more, it is positively discourteous to treat
Edith like this, after the devotion with which my sister nursed
her through her long illness in London,” he thought, with rising
indignation that grew stronger every moment he waited, for Camille was
tardy. Her maid had to make some changes in her toilet before Camille
would consent to enter the presence of her old lover.
But at last the rich silken négligée was adjusted to her fancy, and
with a throbbing heart and nervous step Camille entered and bowed to
her guest.