Part 7 (1/2)

she remarked.

”I hope I am not a brute,” said Peter gloomily.

”You hope _I'm_ not, too, no doubt.”

”Don't, don't, Alicia.”

”I felt awfully about it; simply awfully,” Alicia declared.

Odd, retracing the sorry little scene as he looked from his library windows, found that from it unconsciously he had dated an epoch, an epoch of resignation that had donned good-humor as its s.h.i.+eld. Alicia could disappoint him no longer.

In the first month of their married life, each revelation of emptiness had been an agony. Alicia was still mysterious to him, as must be a nature centered in its own shallowness to one at touch on all points with life in all its manifestations; her mind still remained as much a thing for conjecture as the mind of some animals. But Alicia's perceptions were subtle, and he only asked now to keep from her all consciousness of his own marred life; for he had marred it, not she. He was carefully just to Alicia.

Mary remained at the Manor until all Alicia's guests had arrived. Mrs.

Marchant, an ugly, ”smart,” vivacious widow, splendid horsewoman, and good singer; Gladys le Breton, who was very blonde and fluffy as to head, just a bit made-up as to skin, harmless, pretty, silly, and supposed to be clever.

”Clever, I suppose,” Mary said to Lady Mainwaring, ”because she has the reputation of doing foolish things badly--dancing on dinner-tables and thoroughly _bete_ things like that. She has not danced on Peter's table as yet.”

Miss le Breton skirt-danced in the drawing-room, however, very prettily, and Peter's placid contemplation of her coyness irritated Mary. Miss le Breton's coyness was too mechanical, too well worn to afford even a charitable point of view.

”Poor little girl,” said Peter, when she expressed her disapproval with some severity; ”it is her nature. Each man after his own manner; hers is to make a fool of herself,” and with this rather unexpected piece of opinion Mary was fully satisfied. As for Lord Calverly, she cordially hated the big man with the good manners and the coa.r.s.e laugh. His cynical observation of Miss le Breton aroused quite a feeling of protecting partisans.h.i.+p in Mary's breast, and his looks at Alicia made her blood boil. They were not cynical. Sir John Fleetinge was hardly more tolerable; far younger, with a bonnie look of devil-may-care and a reputation for recklessness that made Mary uneasy. Peter was indifferent good-humor itself, but she thought the time might come when Peter's good-humor might fail.

The thought of Mr. Apswith was cheering; but she hated to leave Peter _dans cette galere_.

Peter, however, did not much mind the _galere_. His duties as host lay lightly on him. He did not mind Calverly at billiards, nor Fleetinge at the river, where they spent several mornings fis.h.i.+ng silently and pleasantly together. Fleetinge had only met him casually in London clubs and drawing-rooms, but at close quarters he realized that literary tastes, which might have indicated a queer twist according to Sir John and an air of easy confidence in Mrs. Odd, would not make a definite falling in love with Mrs. Odd one whit the safer; he rather renounced definiteness therefore, and rather liked Peter.

Mary departed for London with Lady Mainwaring, and Alicia, as if to show that she needed no chaperonage, conducted herself with a little less gayety than when Mary was there.

She rode in the mornings with Lord Calverly and Captain Archinard--who had not, as yet, put into execution the hideous economy of selling his horses. In the evening she played billiards in a manly manner, and at odd hours she flirted, but not too forcibly, with Lord Calverly, Sir John, and with Captain Archinard in the beech-woods, or by lamplight effects in the drawing-room.

Peter had not forgotten Hilda and the strawberry beds, and one day Captain Archinard, who spent many of his hours at the Manor, was asked to bring his girls to tea.

Hilda and Katherine found Lord Calverly and Mrs. Marchant in the drawing-room with Mrs. Odd, and their father, after a cursory introduction, left them to sit, side by side, on two tall chairs, while he joined the trio. Mrs. Marchant moved away to a sofa, the Captain followed her, and Alicia and Lord Calverly were left alone near the two children. Katherine was already making sarcastic mental notes as to the hospitality meted out to Hilda and herself, and Hilda stared hard at Mrs. Odd. Mrs. Odd was more beautiful than ever this afternoon in a white dress; Hilda wondered with dismay if Katherine could be right about her. Alicia, turning her head presently, met the wide absorbed gaze, and, with her charming smile, asked if they had brought their dogs--

”I saw such a lot of them about at your place the other day.”

”We didn't know that you expected them to tea. We should have liked to bring them,” said Katherine, and Hilda murmured with an echo-like effect: ”We _should_ have liked to; Palamon howled dreadfully.”

That Palamon's despair had been unnecessary made regret doubly keen.

”Hey! What's that?” Lord Calverly had been staring at Hilda and heard the faint e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n; ”what is your dog called?”

”Palamon.” Hilda's voice was reserved; she had already thought that she did not like Lord Calverly, and now that he looked at her, spoke to her, she was sure of it.

”What funny names you give your dogs,” said Alicia. ”The other is called Darwin,” she added, looking at Lord Calverly with a laugh; ”but Palamon is pretty--prettier than the monkey gentleman. What made you call him that?”

”It is out of 'The Knight's Tale,'” said Katherine; ”Hilda is very fond of it, and called her dogs after the two heroes, Palamon and Arcite.”