"At any rate, tell me the man's name?" Mrs. Greaves regarded the worn, white face of her friend with impatient anxiety. Incidentally, she wished Ellen would leave off her mourning; she had been a widow for so many years, and black had never suited her.
"It is Colonel Coventry," said Ellen, with an effort.
"Coventry? Surely not the man we knew in India--in the Barchesters?"
Mrs. Munro nodded, and there was silence between the two women, who were both thinking of Trixie, aged nineteen, pretty, pleasure-loving, wilful, as the wife of a man nearly thirty years her senior; a man, moreover, who had been noted for his intolerance of feminine frailty, for his almost puritanical views where the conduct of women was concerned. How could such a marriage prove a success on either side?
"But, Ellen----" began Mrs. Greaves, and hesitated. Then she added quickly: "Does Trixie know that he was married before, and that he divorced his wife?"
"Yes; she doesn't seem to mind. She says it was all such a long time ago. You know what Trixie is when she has made up her mind and wants to do a thing."
"I know what girls are nowadays, and Trixie in particular," said Mrs. Greaves rather tartly. "I suppose Colonel Coventry's first marriage must seem prehistoric to her, but sixteen years to us is not so long ago. At any rate, let us hope it will steady her to be married to a man old enough to be her father."
Mrs. Munro's soft eyes filled with tears. She said in plaintive protest: "You are always so hard on Trixie, Marion. There is no real harm in the child. She only likes to enjoy herself in her own way."
"She will not be permitted to enjoy herself in her own way as Mrs. Coventry, unless he has altered very much since I knew him. It will have to be his way or nothing. Ellen, I should not like to see a girl of mine, however well balanced, married to that man. I believe him to be hard and unsympathetic. Remember how he behaved to his first wife, even as a comparatively young man. The whole station blamed him."
"I was at home that year; it was after I took Trixie home; but I remember hearing about the case. Surely Mrs. Coventry only got what she deserved? How could he have done anything but divorce her when he found out what she was?" "My dear, I always doubted if there was anything to find out beyond extreme foolishness, though appearances were certainly against her. I knew her fairly well, and I never for one moment thought she had been really bad. George Coventry was one of those men who are ready to believe the worst about women, and who pose as saints themselves. Does Trixie profess to be in love with him, may I ask?"