Alice, deeply hurt, turned away to hide her discomposure, and joined the group at the piano without another word. Captain Vaughan looked at his friend with unmeasured indignation; certainly he did not shine in home life. There had been a time when he thought no woman under the sun a fitting mate for Sir Reginald Fairfax; but now it appeared to him that Sir Reginald was hardly worthy of his wife!
Could she be the very same Alice to whom, when he thought himself dying, his last words and messages were sent? “Tell her I loved her—always!” Loved her, indeed! He has a curious way of showing it, thought his brother-officer with rising anger.
His looks of unqualified disapproval were entirely thrown away on his friend, who was busily endeavouring to balance a paper-cutter on the tip of one of his fingers, and never once raised his eyes. Captain Vaughan, rising suddenly, and giving his chair a violent push, that was in itself an angry expostulation, went over to the piano and joined the rest of the party in begging their hostess for just one song.
When all had left the drawing-room, excepting her husband, Alice lingered behind. He was setting the clock on the mantelpiece and did not observe her where she was kneeling, beside the piano, putting away some music. When all the songs and books had been neatly arranged she stole a glance at him. He was standing with his back to the fireplace, just as she had seen him for the first time at Malta; but oh, how different he was! He looked sterner and older, and instead of a gay smile there was a hard cynical expression on his lips as he gazed into vacancy.
She felt that she was afraid of him, but, all the same, she would speak and endeavour to dissuade him from riding for Captain Campell. No matter what he said, no matter how he froze her, she would be heard; she was his wife.
Rising to her feet, she approached slowly and hesitatingly. Her husband eyed her with cool surprise as she came close up to him.
“Reginald,” she said, “will nothing prevent your riding this race to-morrow?”
“Nothing,” he calmly replied, “unless the horse dies.”
“Could not Burke, the groom, ride him? He was a jockey once,” she asked timidly.