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As she heard the soft thud and shuffle of his onward progress, followed by the little clatter of the crutches as he laid them upon the floor beside his chair, the brightness died out of Honoria's face. She registered sharp annoyance against herself, for she had not anticipated that this would continue to affect her so much.
"I'm no better'n dirt, I suppose, though from the start she wasn' above robbin' me. Aw, she's sly ... Mr. Raymond, I'll curse her as she comes out, see if I don't!" "And I swear you shall not," said Taffy. The scent of Honoria's orange-blossom seemed to cling about them as they stood. Lizzie looked at him vindictively. "You wanted her yourself, I know. You weren't good enough, neither.
The box-party proved to be a more formal affair than he had anticipated, since it was large enough to fill two of the open dress-circle boxes. Gantry was included, and so were the Weatherfords father, mother, daughters, and son. These, with the Gordons and a Denver man whose name of Critchett Blount was not quite sure that he caught in the introduction, filled Mrs. Honoria's list.
Poor, old Wenham drove up in his donkey-chair from the west lodge. Julius was there, of course. We did all things decently and in order." Honoria's voice ceased. She sat stroking the dear hand she held and smiling to herself, notwithstanding a chokiness in her throat, for she had a comfortable belief the situation was saved. Then Clara entered, prepared to encounter remonstrance, bearing a tray.
Come along, he says, 'Whosoever will be saved an' the sooner 'tis over, the sooner you gets home to dinner. A fine talk there was! Squire, he's just such another. Funny things he've a-done. Married a poor soul from Roseland way a Miss Trevanion quite a bettermost lady. When Miss Susannah was born that's Miss Honoria's mother she went to be churched.
Before replying to Honoria's inquiry, Andrew Larkspur studied her from head to foot, with eyes whose sharp scrutiny would have been very unpleasant to anyone who had occasion for concealment. The result of the scrutiny seemed to be tolerably satisfactory, for Mr. Larkspur at last replied to his visitor's question in a tone which for him was extremely gracious.
Lizzie echoed with a short laugh. "Oh, nuthin'. I'm goin' to lay the curse on her, that's all." "You shall not!" There was no time to lose. Honoria's trustee the second cousin from London, a tall, clean-shaven man with a shiny bald head, and a shiny hat in his hand had stepped out and was helping the bride to alight. What Lizzie meant Taffy could not tell; but there must be no scene.
Honoria's prettiness, rouged, frail, and modishly enhanced, allured the eye from all less elfin brilliancies; and as she laughed among so many other relishers of life her charms became the more instant, just as a painting quickens in every tint when set in an appropriate frame. "There is no other way," her husband said.
She had run away from Tredinnis House, and married a penniless captain; and Honoria's surname was Callastair, though nobody uttered it in the old man's hearing. Husband and wife had died in India, of cholera, within three years of their marriage; and the old man had sent for the child. Having relented so far, he went on to do it thoroughly, in his own fashion.
At another time, in another mood, Taffy might have remembered that George was George, and heir to Sir Harry's nature. As it was, the apology threw oil on the flame. "You cur! Do you think it was that? And you are Honoria's husband!" He advanced with an ugly laugh. "For the last time, put up your fists."
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