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Updated: May 18, 2025
Lady Winsleigh watched her, irritated at her passionless demeanor. "Well!" she exclaimed at last. "Have you nothing to say?" Thelma looked up, her eyes burning with an intense feverish light. "Nothing!" she replied. "Nothing?" repeated her ladyship with emphatic astonishment. "Nothing against Philip," continued the girl steadily. "For the blame is not his, but mine!
Now a new light was suddenly thrown on his character there was something in his look, his manner, his very tone of voice, which proved to Errington that there was a deep and forcible side to his nature of which his closest friends had never dreamed and he was somewhat taken aback by the discovery. Seeing that he still hesitated, Winsleigh laid a hand encouragingly on his shoulder and said
"Oh, if I'd only thought!" she sobbed, "if I'd only known what the dear Froeken meant to do when she said good-bye to me last night, I could have prevented her going I could I would have told her all I know and she would have stayed to see you! Oh, Sir Philip, if you had only been here, that wicked, wicked Lady Winsleigh couldn't have driven her away!"
She spoke of things strange and new to her attendant's ears frequently she pronounced the names of Violet Vere and Lady Winsleigh with an accent of horror, then she would talk of George Lorimer and Pierre Duprez, and she would call for Britta often, sometimes endearingly sometimes impatiently.
Mamzelle tightened her thin lips a little and waved her hand expressively. "She is an angel of beauty!" she said, "and Miladi Winsleigh is jealous ah, Dieu! jealous to death of her! She is innocent too like a baby and she worships her husband. That is an error! To worship a man is a great mistake she will find it so. Men are not to be too much loved no, no!"
"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.
"You believe the lies of a servant?" suddenly cried Lady Winsleigh wrathfully. "Have not you believed the lies of Sir Francis Lennox, who is less honest than a servant?" asked her husband, his grave voice deepening with a thrill of passion. "And haven't you reported them everywhere as truths? But as regards your maid I doubted her story altogether.
He had his own notions of propriety, he considered that his mistress had no business whatever to call on an actress of Violet Vere's repute, and he resolved that whether he were reproved for over-officiousness or not, nothing should prevent him from casually mentioning to Lord Winsleigh the object of her ladyship's drive that morning.
And, like an exemplary servant as he was, he lingered about the passage while Lord Winsleigh entered his library, and, after remaining there some ten minutes or so, came out again in hat and great coat. The officious Briggs handed him his cane, and inquired "'Ansom, my lord?" "Thanks, no. I will walk."
And again he smiled that smile as glitteringly chilled as a gleam of light on the edge of a sword. Lady Winsleigh raised her head, and her eyes met his with a dark expression of the uttermost anger.
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