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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Clara Winsleigh's modern social doctrines are false, my dear!" interrupted Mrs. Lorimer quickly. "She isn't satisfied with her own marriage, and she thinks everybody must be as discontented as herself.
"Miladi was willing that I should assist in the attendance to-day," replied Louise discreetly. "I have waited upon Milord Winsleigh, and other gentlemen in the summer-house at the end of the rose-garden." And with one furtive glance of her black, bead-like eyes at Lady Winsleigh's face, she made a respectful sort of half-curtsy and went her way.
"It is not easy to explain," he said. "To run down my own employers wouldn't be in my line. But I've an idea that Clara by which name I allude to my Lord Winsleigh's lady, is up to mischief. She 'ates your lady, Miss Britta 'ates 'er like poison!" "Hates her!" cried Britta in astonishment. "Oh, you must be mistaken, Mr. Briggs! She is as fond of her as she can be almost like a sister to her!"
Her object was most purely feminine love of mischief, and the gratification of private spite! There's nothing like frankness!" and Lord Winsleigh's face was a positive study as he spoke. "You see," he made a slight gesture towards his wife, who stood speechless, and so pale that her very lips were colorless "her ladyship is not in a position to deny what I have said. Excuse her silence!"
"She has always hated the Froeken, and been jealous of her always! Her own maid, Louise, will tell you so Lord Winsleigh's man, Briggs, will tell you so! They've listened at the doors, and they know all about it!" Britta made this statement with the most childlike candor.
"His lordship wished to know if Master Hernest was to come to your la'ship before goin' out?" "Certainly not!" and Lady Winsleigh's brows drew together in a frown. "The boy is a perfect nuisance!" Briggs bowed and vanished. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle grew more and more restless.
"He's gone!" and as Neville said this he sighed and looked dubiously at his companion. "How do you know all this about Lady Winsleigh, Britta? It may not be true it's only servants' gossip." "Only servants' gossip!" exclaimed Britta. "And is that nothing? Why, in these grand houses like Lord Winsleigh's, the servants know everything!
Thelma, this is Lady Winsleigh." There is a strange sensation in Lady Winsleigh's throat as though a very tight string were suddenly drawn round it to almost strangling point and it is certain that she feels as though she must scream, hit somebody with her fan, and rush from the room in an undignified rage.
At the very time when Lady Winsleigh's carriage was nearing the Strand, the grand morning rehearsal of a new burlesque was "on" at the Brilliant and Violet's harsh tones, raised to a sort of rough masculine roar, were heard all over the theatre, as she issued commands or made complaints according to her changeful humors.
"She'll never hear one from me!" he returned, with so tender and earnest a look on his face, that Lady Winsleigh's heart ached for jealousy. "I must really go and see how she is. She's been exerting herself too much to-day. Excuse me!" and with a courteous smile and bow he left the room with a hurried and eager step. Alone, Lady Winsleigh smiled bitterly. "Men are all alike!" she said half aloud.
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