"Well, I have worked rather hard," said Mrs. Marvelle, with modest self-consciousness. "You see nowadays it's so difficult to secure suitable husbands for the girls who ought to have them. Men are such slippery creatures!"
She sighed--and Mrs. Van Clupp echoed the sigh,--and then these two ladies,--the nature of whose intimacy may now be understood by the discriminating reader,--went together to search out those of their friends and acquaintances who were among the guests that night, and to announce to them (in the strictest confidence, of course!) the delightful news of "dear Marcia's engagement." Thelma heard of it, and went at once to proffer her congratulations to Marcia in person.
"I hope you will be very, very happy!" she said simply, yet with such grave earnestness in her look and voice that the "Yankee gel" was touched to a certain softness and seriousness not at all usual with her, and became so winning and gentle to Lord Algy that he felt in the seventh heaven of delight with his new position as affianced lover to so charming a creature.
Meanwhile George Lorimer and Pierre Duprèz were chatting together in the library. It was very quiet there,--the goodly rows of books, the busts of poets and philosophers,--the large, placid features of the Pallas Athene crowning an antique pedestal,--the golden pipes of the organ gleaming through the shadows,--all these gave a solemn, almost sacred aspect to the room. The noise of the dancing and festivity in the distant picture-gallery did not penetrate here, and Lorimer sat at the organ, drawing out a few plaintive strains from its keys as he talked.
"It's your fancy, Pierre," he said slowly. "Thelma may be a little tired to-day, perhaps--but I know she's perfectly happy."
"I think not so," returned Duprèz. "She has not the brightness--the angel look--les yeux d'enfant,--that we beheld in her at that far Norwegian Fjord. Britta is anxious for her."
Lorimer looked up, and smiled a little.
"Britta? It's always Britta with you, mon cher! One would think--" he paused and laughed.
"Think what you please!" exclaimed Duprèz, with a defiant snap of his fingers. "I would not give that little person for all the grandes dames here to-day! She is charming--and she is true!--Ma foi! to be true to any one is a virtue in this age! I tell you, my good boy, there is something sorrowful--heavy--on la belle Thelma's mind--and Britta, who sees her always, feels it--but she cannot speak. One thing I will tell you--it is a pity she is so fond of Miladi Winsleigh."