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Updated: June 4, 2025
Something in the expression of the face made him think of Halcyone, although the types of the two were entirely different; and Cecilia Cricklander, watching, saw a look of deep pain grow in his eyes. "I wish to goodness he would get well and be human and masterful and brilliant, as he used to be," she thought. "I am thoroughly tired out, trying to cope with him.
But there was yet one more unpleasant aspect to face that was the situation regarding Mrs. Cricklander. He had assuredly not committed himself or even acted very unfairly to her. She had been playing a game as he had been.
He wished to see the country round, he said, and especially make an excursion to San Gimignano that gem of all Italy for its atmosphere of the past. "Oh! I am thoroughly tired of these moldy places," Mrs. Cricklander announced. "The Maulevriers are in Venice, and we can have a delightful time at the Lido; the new hotel is quite good you had much better come on with me now.
For he had made up his mind, as he sped to Florence, that Cecilia Cricklander should return to England as his wife. They had four days of the usual gay parties for every meal there happened to be a number of people passing through and staying at Venice and the early September weather was glorious and very hot. Mrs. Cricklander delighted in a gondola.
"Good-night, and good-by, dear Miss Clinker," he said; "I am glad to have had this opportunity of thanking you again and again for your sweet goodness to me when I was ill; it was something which I shall never forget." "Oh, Mr. Derringham!" said Arabella, "you haven't parted from Mrs. Cricklander, have you?"
Halcyone came up to the scratch, although a fierce pain tightened her heart afresh. "Yes," she said, "I suppose no one was surprised to read of the engagement in the papers to-day. I can imagine that a man requires a great deal of money to support the position in the government which Mr. Derringham has, and no doubt Mrs. Cricklander is glad to give it to him he is so clever and great."
Cricklander indulged in endless speculations as to why John Derringham should have been trying to cross that difficult and dangerous haw-haw, she gave no hint that his destination could have been other than the Professor's little house. She did swerve sufficiently to the other side to remark that to cross the haw-haw would save at least a mile by the road if one were in a hurry.
Vincent Cricklander would not take place, so that it should appear in the Monday morning papers Mr. Hanbury-Green felt he could safely comply with her caprice and bide his time.
"Arabella," Mrs. Cricklander said when next morning she lay smoking in her old-rose silk bed, while she went through her usual lessons for the day, "you must give me just a point each about those wretched old two, so that I will remember them again. I must have a sort of keynote.
He had made the excuse of the waiter not having quite closed the door, apparently, for only kissing her hand by way of greeting, and then he said just the right thing about her beauty and his pleasure in seeing her, and sat down by her side upon the sofa in far too collected a manner for a lover to have shown after these weeks of separation. Mrs. Cricklander grew very angry indeed.
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