"Who would not love her!" sighed Lady Winsleigh gently, as Sir Philip released her hands from his warm clasp,--then raising her tearful eyes to his she added wistfully, "You must take great care of her, Philip--she is so sensitive,--I always fancy an unkind word would kill her."
"She'll never hear one from me!" he returned, with so tender and earnest a look on his face, that Lady Winsleigh's heart ached for jealousy. "I must really go and see how she is. She's been exerting herself too much to-day. Excuse me!" and with a courteous smile and bow he left the room with a hurried and eager step.
Alone, Lady Winsleigh smiled bitterly. "Men are all alike!" she said half aloud. "Who would think he was such a hypocrite? Fancy his dividing his affection between two such contrasts as Thelma and Violet Vere! However, there's no accounting for tastes. As for man's fidelity, I wouldn't give a straw for it--and for his morality--!" She finished the sentence with a scornful laugh, and left the boudoir to return to the rest of the company.
Errington, meanwhile, knocked softly at the door of his wife's bedroom--and receiving no answer, turned the handle noiselessly and went in. Thelma lay on the bed, dressed as she was, her cheek resting on her hand, and her face partially hidden. Her husband approached on tiptoe, and lightly kissed her forehead. She did not stir,--she appeared to sleep profoundly.
"Poor girl!" he thought, "she's tired out, and no wonder, with all the bustle and racket of these people! A good thing if she can rest a little before the evening closes in."
And he stole quietly out of the room, and meeting Britta on the stairs told her on no account to let her mistress be disturbed till it was time for the illumination of the grounds. Britta promised,--Britta's eyes were red--one would almost have fancied she had been crying. But Thelma was not asleep--she had felt her husband's kiss,--her heart had beat as quickly as the wing of a caged wild bird at his warm touch,--and now he had gone she turned and pressed her lips passionately on the pillow where his hand had leaned. Then she rose languidly from the bed, and, walking slowly to the door, locked it against all comers. Presently she began to pace the room up and down,--up and down,--her face was very white and weary, and every now and then a shuddering sigh broke from her lips.