"What is it, Effie?" he asked.
"I think," replied Effie in evident trepidation, "I think that I hear mother outside and Anne too."
"Well, dear, they have come to see me."
"Yes, and to scold me because I ran away," and the child drew nearer to her father in a fashion which would have made it clear to any observer that the relations between her and her mother were somewhat strained.
Effie was right. Presently there was a knock at the door and Lady Honoria entered, calm and pale and elegant as ever. She was followed by a dark-eyed somewhat impertinent-looking French bonne, who held up her hands and ejaculated, "Mon Dieu!" as she appeared.
"I thought so," said Lady Honoria, speaking in French to the bonne. "There she is," and she pointed at the runaway Effie with her parasol.
"Mon Dieu!" said the woman again. "Vous voilà enfin, et moi, qui suis accablée de peur, et votre chère mère aussi; oh, mais que c'est méchant; et regardez donc, avec un soulier seulement. Mais c'est affreux!"
"Hold your tongue," said Geoffrey sharply, "and leave Miss Effie alone. She came to see me."
Anne ejaculated, "Mon Dieu!" once more and collapsed.
"Really, Geoffrey," said his wife, "the way you spoil that child is something shocking. She is wilful as can be, and you make her worse. It is very naughty of her to run away like that and give us such a hunt. How are we to get her home, I wonder, with only one shoe."
Her husband bit his lip, and his forehead contracted itself above the dark eyes. It was not the first time that he and Lady Honoria had come to words about the child, with whom his wife was not in sympathy. Indeed she had never forgiven Effie for appearing in this world at all. Lady Honoria did not belong to that class of women who think maternity is a joy.
"Anne," he said, "take Miss Effie and carry her till you can find a donkey. She can ride back to the lodgings." The nurse murmured something in French about the child being as heavy as lead.
"Do as I bid you," he said sharply, in the same language. "Effie, my love, give me a kiss and go home. Thank you for coming to see me."
The child obeyed and went. Lady Honoria stood and watched her go, tapping her little foot upon the floor, and with a look upon her cold, handsome face that was not altogether agreeable to see.
It had sometimes happened that, in the course of his married life, Geoffrey returned home with a little of that added fondness which absence is fabled to beget. On these occasions he was commonly so unfortunate as to find that Lady Honoria belied the saying, that she greeted him with arrears of grievances and was, if possible, more frigid than ever.