Ida rode home all quivering with the pain of her meeting with Maude
Falconer. At first it seemed to her that she must leave Herondale--for
a time, at any rate; that it would be impossible for her to run the
risk of meeting the beautiful woman who had stolen Stafford from her;
but, as she grew calmer, her pride came to her aid, and she saw that to
run away would be cowardly. Herondale was her home, had been her home
long before the Villa had sprung up, and to desert it because of the
proximity of Maude Falconer would be almost as bad as if a soldier
should desert his colors.
But for the next few days she did not leave her own grounds. She grew
pale and listless, and Lady Bannerdale, when she came to look her up,
noticed the change in her, but was too tactful to make any remark upon
it.
"We have missed you so much, my dear," she said, affectionately.
"Indeed, my husband has been quite fidgety and irritable--so unlike
him!--and Edwin has been worse, if it were possible. Men are a great
trouble, my dear Ida. Though perhaps I ought not to say that of mine,
for I count myself lucky in both husband and son. Edwin has scarcely
given me a day's trouble since he was a child. I really think, if I
were asked what are the best gifts bestowed by the fairy godmother, I
should say 'a good digestion and a temper to match,' and I am quite
proud of Edwin's strength and amiability. But even he has been somewhat
of a trial for the last few days; so, my dear girl, do come over and
help me manage them."
Ida smiled rather absently, and her ladyship glided smoothly from the
subject.
"Since we last saw you we have called at the Villa," she said, "and we
were fortunate enough to find Miss Falconer at home. She is alone there
in that huge palace of a place, for her father has gone back to London;
and, though I was never very much taken with her, I could not help
pitying her."
"Why?" asked Ida, not absently now, but in her quiet, reserved manner.
"She looks so--well, actually so unhappy," replied Lady Bannerdale.
"She was in mourning, and her face--she is really an extremely
beautiful girl!--was like marble. And her reception of me was almost as
cold. I am afraid that she has had more trouble than we are aware of,
there was such a preoccupied and indifferent air about her. It occurred
to me that she was fretting for her absent _fiancé_, Mr. Stafford--oh,
dear me! I shall never remember to call him Lord Highcliffe!--and I
resolved to carefully refrain from mentioning him; but you know how
stupid one is in such a case, how one always talks about lameness in
the presence of a man with one leg; and in the midst of a pause in the
conversation, which, by the way, was nearly all on my side, I blurted
out with: 'Have you heard from Mr. Stafford Orme lately, Miss
Falconer?' 'I suppose you mean Lord Highcliffe, Lady Bannerdale?' she
said, turning her cold, blue eyes on my scarlet face. 'He is in
Australia, and is well. I do not hear very often from him. He is
leading a very busy life, and has little time for letter-writing, I
imagine.' Of course I got myself away as soon as I could after that,
and I'm afraid I left a very bad impression upon Miss Falconer."