They crossed the hall without speaking, both a prey to the utmost anxiety and distress. Who had surprised their guilty secret? Was it Elaine? Could it have been Paul? As they arrived at the foot of the stair-case they met Paul coming to find them.
"Good morning," he said, smiling. "It is such a lovely day, I should like to join you in your walk. When you are ready you can come for me to my mother's room. I am afraid she is not very well."
CHAPTER XII.
Poor Elaine. She had returned to her room completely overwhelmed by what she had heard. What woman could it have been with Claude? To whom could he have been talking? Some cruel coquette who made it her pastime to lead men astray, blinding them to their true happiness and boasting of her conquests. She, Elaine, had been a help to him in his work, his faithful companion, always ready with sweet sympathy and valuable counsel. How many times had she helped him to overcome despondency and to triumph over obstacles of all kinds. And was she to lose all this? Was she to submit passively to the sight of her happiness crumbling to the ground before her eyes? No! she would struggle to regain it! She would make every effort as long as there was the least hope; would try to win back his love; would never reproach him; would be as cheerful and as lovely as ever. She would try in every way to make herself beautiful and fascinating. One thought tormented her—she turned to the mirror to see if she were commencing to grow old. How many women have asked themselves this same question, and with what fear of the answer?
She heard a knock at the door.
"It is I, mother; may I come in?"
Her son!
"Certainly."