Proud, graceful, and entirely herself again, Mrs. Lambert swept up to Mrs. Carter. She had drained more than one glass of champagne, at the supper-table, where the sparkle of her wit, and the hitherto unknown sound of her laughter, had entranced and dazzled her admirers.
“Never,” they all said, “had the queen of fashion shone out with such wonderful splendor. Something must have inspired her.”
Something had inspired her, more potent than admiration, more fiery than wine; the burning pangs of jealousy, added to a cruel defeat, where she had staked her very soul.
Smiling, bland, and wonderfully beautiful, she came up to say farewell. Ross did not attempt to retreat, but waited her approach with dignified calmness. He felt Eva’s hand tremble on his arm, but could not comprehend the cause.
Mrs. Lambert did not attempt to ignore the girl then, but passed from the hostess, and took leave of her with ironical politeness, which was extended to Ross, who received it with a grave bow. For once in many years the lady had given way to overwhelming passion; but her will was strong, and habit aided her in concealing the pangs that had stricken her lifeless in the conservatory.
But the restraint she had forced upon herself was beyond endurance. She neither waited for Ivon or Miss Spicer, but accepted the first offered arm, went through the ceremony of leave-taking with fortitude, though the two persons she most loved and hated, stood by the hostess, and gayly bade good-night to her escort, as she entered her carriage.
When once alone, the passions, so long held in restraint, broke forth vehemently. The woman wrung her hands, fell upon her knees, and, burying her face in the silken cushions of her carriage, sobbed, moaned, and writhed, with a force of anguish that threatened her very life.
Meantime, Miss Spicer had found Ivon in the crowd and captured him at once.
“Where on earth is Mrs. Lambert? I have been searching and searching for her. She was at the supper-table one minute; but before I could fight my way to her, she was gone. One might as well have no chaperon at all, as wander about in this wild fashion.”
“We shall soon find my mother,” said Ivon.