Theodosia swallowed something with difficulty. "I certainly did not mean to give Miss Anderson the best spare room!"
Dr. Bryant was silent, and by his silence won the day. Theodosia again came to the conclusion that her wisest course—for Keith's sake—was to conciliate him, even at the cost of her best spare room. "But as for being friends! Faugh!" she said scornfully. "I am very much obliged to Maurice."
With the Thursday, on which Cecilia and Lettice were expected, came heavy snow. "Of course they would not come in such weather," Theodosia declared.
"Of course they will send me word, if they give it up," Dr. Bryant answered. He was in a state of unwonted restlessness all day, and ordered the pony-trap to be in readiness, despite the storm, to take him to Bristol station. If they arrived, he could obtain there a closed fly.
Not long before he meant to start, Theodosia took a look, in passing, out of the hall-window, and saw a telegraph messenger approach. She opened the door herself, received the telegram, paid the extra fee, and passed on to the drawing room.
The address was to "Mrs. Bryant."
"Odd!" Theodosia said, as she stood gazing. "What should make them put my name? Perhaps they think my husband would be off by this time! And if he were—as if I should be in any suspense! Why didn't they send it earlier?" A wave of indignant disgust towards the Andersons swelled in her breast. "Why should I trouble myself to open it? What do I care for those people? . . . Maurice is infatuated . . . Let him go, and have his drive for nothing! . . . What harm? . . . It will make him think less of them, perhaps!" Such half-formed ideas flashed through Theodosia's mind; and before she knew whither they tended, or what was the actual form of the temptation, she had tossed the yellow envelope upon the blazing fire. One little flash of flame, and only a curling shred remained.
Then fear seized her. Suppose her husband should find out what she had done! Suppose, later, hearing that a telegram had been despatched, he should trace its receipt to her! Suppose—"But what nonsense! It was to me, not to him. I do not know who it was from, or what it said. I can say that I have heard nothing, and that there was no telegram for him."
She tried to put aside the uncomfortable recollection, watched Dr. Bryant off on his snowy drive, and spent the afternoon in a state of mingled remorse and irritation. Her dislike of the Andersons was enhanced by the fact that she had, in a sense, done something to injure them.
When Dr. Bryant returned, chilled, disappointed, and plainly hurt, she found not the slightest difficulty in showing exactly the same indignation which she might naturally have shown, if no telegram had been sent.