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Marvelle said nothing, though she too was more or less curious to see the "peasant" addition to the circle of fashionable society, and when they entered the Park, both she and Lady Winsleigh kept a sharp look-out for the first glimpse of the quiet grey and silver of the Bruce-Errington liveries.
Briggs mutely touched his hat, mounted the box, and the carriage rapidly bowled in the required direction, while Lady Winsleigh remarked laughingly to Mrs. Marvelle "Philip is sure to be with his treasure! If we can catch a glimpse of her, sitting, staring open-mouthed at everything, it will be amusing! We shall then know what to expect." Mrs.
"Excuse me, I would rather not speak till the music is over. It is impossible for a great musician to think his thoughts out properly unless there is silence. Would it not be better to ask every one to leave off talking while this gentleman plays?" Clara Winsleigh looked amused. "My dear, you don't know them," she said carelessly. "They would think me mad to propose such a thing!
Lady Winsleigh found it almost impossible to get her on the subject of the burlesque actress, Violet Vere, and Sir Philip's supposed admiration for that notorious stage-siren. "I do not believe it," she said firmly, "and you you must not believe it either, Clara. For wherever you heard it, it is wrong.
"Papa! could you stand on your head and shake hands with your foot?" demanded this young rogue, confronting his father with towzled curls and flushed cheeks. Lord Winsleigh laughed. "Really, Ernest, I don't think I could!" he answered good-naturedly. "Haven't you talked enough about the circus by this time? I thought you were ready for sleep, otherwise I should not have come up to say good-night."
So it may be that the crippled crossing-sweeper outside Winsleigh House is a very great deal happier than the master of that stately mansion. He has a new broom, and Master Ernest Winsleigh has given him two oranges, and a rather bulky stick of sugar candy.
Indeed, I do not know of any 'worst' that I would not bear for Philip's sake." Lady Winsleigh studied the lovely face, eloquent with love and truth, for some moments in silence; a kind of compunction pricked her conscience. Why destroy all that beautiful faith? Why wound that grandly trusting nature? The feeling was but momentary.
And he smiled complacently. Lord Winsleigh, who was in his library as usual, occupied with his duties as tutor to his son Ernest, rose to receive Sir Philip with an air of more than his usual gravity. "I was about to write to you, Errington," he began, and then stopped short, touched by the utter misery expressed in Philip's face. He addressed Ernest with a sort of nervous haste.
Her husband remained unmoved. "May I see the voucher for this box?" he inquired. "I've sent it to some friends," replied her ladyship haughtily. "Since when have you decided to become an inquisitor, my lord?" "Lady Winsleigh," said Philip suddenly and eagerly, "will you swear to me that you have said or done nothing to make my Thelma leave me?"
"You are thinking unkindly of me just now," continued Clara softly; "but I felt it was my duty to tell you the worst at once. It's no good living in a delusion! I'm very, very sorry for you, Thelma!" Thelma remained perfectly silent. Lady Winsleigh moved towards the door, and as she opened it looked back at her.
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