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Updated: May 3, 2025
At need she might find the means to avoid anything like a real intimacy; and, after all, there would be a certain satisfaction in finally seeing, with her own eyes, Clytie Summers as somebody's actual wife. Last to arrive were the Joyces. Medora wore the wedding-gown that had astonished the country neighbours for ten miles around, and Abner was in the customary evening dress.
Miss Medora Ogilvy went straight to Anne's room, by invitation, and finding it empty, proceeded to beautify herself. Byron had been much in vogue at the time of her birth was yet, for that matter and she had been named romantically. But there was little romance in the shrewd brain of Miss Ogilvy.
Impossible that anybody could have been dancing on the Sabbath; surely everybody understood that the evangelical principles of Churchton were projected on these occasions to the dunes. Besides, the only women left behind had been two in their forties; the men in their company were even older. Medora Phillips looked at Randolph, but he was staring inexpressively at the opposite wall.
George, watching that little figure so adorably, almost pathetically little in its corner of the great throne knew that he had not counted upon her in vain. Over there on the raised seats Mrs. Medora Hastings and Mr. Augustus Frothingham were looking on matters as helplessly as they would look at a thunder-storm or a circus procession, and they were taking things quite as seriously.
"We should so like to have you present," said Medora. "It will be rather bright and lively, and you would be sure to meet any number of pleasant people. You would enjoy it, I know." Abner shook his head. Fancy him, a serious man, with a reputation to nourish and to safeguard, caught up in any such fandango as that! "I have never attended a dancing-party yet," he said.
"I will stay till she arrives," said Medora. For a fortnight Abner lay muffled in that big, luxurious bed and did as he was told. "Men!" said Medora. "They don't know anything; they have no idea of looking after themselves. And the bigger they are, the more helpless."
Binkley took Medora to the boarding-house and left her, with a society bow, at the foot of the hall stairs. She went up to her room and lit the gas. And then, as suddenly as the dreadful genie arose in vapor from the copper vase of the fisherman, arose in that room the formidable shape of the New England Conscience. The terrible thing that Medora had done was revealed to her in its full enormity.
"Miscellaneous enough," pronounced Medora Phillips, on once viewing his cabinet, "but not altogether" she proceeded charitably "utter rubbish." And it was felt by others too that, in the lack of any wide opportunity, he had done rather well.
Well, no doubt you know. But everybody will tell you that the few pennies Medora Manson has left are all in Beaufort's hands; and how the two women are to keep their heads above water unless he does, I can't imagine. Of course, Madame Olenska may still soften old Catherine, who's been the most inexorably opposed to her staying; and old Catherine could make her any allowance she chooses.
For weeks this affair of Cope's had hung over the blackboard like a dim tapestry. Now it was gone; and when he tabulated in chalk the Elizabethan dramatists or the Victorian novelists there was nothing to prevent his students from seeing them. Medora Phillips became sympathetic and tender. She let him understand that she thought he had been unfairly treated.
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