Molly was surprised by her visitor’s discernment.
“The Chevalier Vane, a friend of ours, talks of taking the cottage next door,” she said, with satisfaction.
“That will be just the thing for you, won’t it? I know Lord Alistair well enough to be sure that he wants plenty of society. I expect you have hard work sometimes to find distractions for him.”
The hint sank into Molly’s mind. Frivolous and stupid as she was, she was able to see that this new friend was giving her sound advice, and she was not ungrateful for it. Alistair had married her, but whether he would continue to live with her would depend a good deal on how far she succeeded in making his home a pleasant one.
Poor Molly! She had caged her bird, but she had yet to see if she could make it sing.
Hero would not go away till she had coaxed Molly into making tea. She praised the furniture, the copper saucepans, the new cuckoo clock, the absence of servants—everything about the house, till its mistress began to think that she must be really a most enviable housewife. When Alistair rejoined them over the tea, he found Molly in a better humour than he ever remembered. And he was careful to do nothing to break the charm.
As he escorted Hero down the yard to her carriage he thanked her earnestly.
“Your visit has been like an angel’s—only let me hope there will be no ‘far between.’”
“I will come as often as I think your wife wishes me to,” was the gentle answer. “Be sure you do nothing to make me unwelcome to her.”
The advice was not unnecessary. After Miss Vanbrugh had departed Molly began to doubt whether she had done well in being so friendly. She tried the experiment of disparaging the visitor to her husband, watching him keenly to see the effect of her remarks. But Alistair was on his guard, and only responded by shrugging his shoulders and saying: