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Fred shared his sister's dislike to Henriette. "Tact!" he cried with a snort, "why a Temperley rushes in where a bull in a china-shop would fear to tread!" Algitha saw that Hubert was again by Hadria's side before the evening was out. The latter looked white, and she avoided her sister's glance. This last symptom seemed to Algitha the worst.
"But what are you going to do?" asked a chorus of voices. Hadria's was not among them, for she knew what was coming. The debate of last night, and this morning's discussion, had evidently brought to a climax a project that Algitha had long had in her mind, but had hesitated to carry out, on account of the distress that it would cause to her mother. Algitha's eyes glittered, and her colour rose.
He began to walk up and down the pathway, with feverish steps, talking rapidly, and representing Hadria's conduct in different lights, each one making it appear more absurd and more unjust than the last. "I have no defence to make," she said, "I know I have behaved contemptibly; self-deception is no excuse. I can explain but not justify myself.
Hadria's face had clouded. "Truly parents must have a bad time of it!" she exclaimed, "but does it really console them that their children should have a bad time of it too?" Algitha was trembling and very pale. "Mother says I shall ruin my life by this fad. What real good am I going to do? She says it is absurd the way we talk of things we know nothing about."
She was becoming singularly like her unhappy mother, in feature and in colouring. Her eyes were large and blue and sweet, with a little touch of pathos in them that Hadria could not bear to see. It seemed almost like the after-glow of the mother's suffering. Although adding to Hadria's anxieties, the child gave a sense of freshness and youth to the little ménage.
His old face would brighten up when he heard Hadria's footstep, and he would pause, a moment or two, for a gossip. The conversation generally turned upon his old "missus," who was buried under a yew tree, near the wicket gate. Then he would ask after Hadria's belongings; about her father and mother, about Hubert, and the boys. Mr.
Lady Engleton's rooms carried one back to a past epoch, among the dainty fancies and art of a more leisurely and less vulgar century. Lady Engleton admitted nothing that had not the quality of distinction, let it have what other quality it might. Hadria's mood, initiated at home, received impetus at Craddock Place. It was a luxurious mood.
She had been looking out for a retreat of the kind. "She seems a nice-like body," said Mrs. McEwen, "and I see no objection to the arrangement." Hadria's heart beat faster. Could it be possible that Valeria du Prel was to be a near neighbour? It seemed too good to be true!
Relations whose names Hadria scarcely remembered, seemed to have waked up at the news of her departure and claimed their share of the woe. Obscure Temperleys raised astounded heads and mourned. Henriette wrote that she was really annoyed at the way in which everybody was talking about Hadria's conduct. It was most uncomfortable. She hoped Hadria was able to be happy.
Rooms must be looked for, combining cheapness with a good situation, within easy distance of the scene of Hadria's future musical studies, and also within reach of some park or gardens for Martha's benefit. This ideal place of abode was at last found. It cost rather more than Hadria had wished to spend on mere lodging, but otherwise it seemed perfect.
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