The man of the world—the English gentleman, hypocritical or unemotional? which?—was here ready to face abject humiliation and hopeless disgrace as impassively as he would have received the welcome of an hostess at a dinner-party.
CHAPTER XXXV
WHICH TELLS OF PICTURES IN THE FIRE
It did not take poor little Edie very long to get her things on and to make ready to go away with Colonel Harris and with Louisa. Something of the truth had to be told to her, and we must do her the justice to state that when she understood the full strength of the calamity which had befallen her and Luke, something of her brother's calm dignity showed itself in her own demeanour.
She pulled herself together with remarkable vigour, and before Mary, the maid, she contrived to behave just as if nothing of great importance had occurred.
"I am going to dine out to-night, Mary," she said quite calmly, "and I mayn't be home until sometime to-morrow. So don't sit up for me."
"No, miss," replied Mary demurely, who kept her own counsel, like the well-drilled, good-class servant that she was.
"And tell cook that Mr. de Mountford won't be in either, nor Mr. Jim. I'll see her to-morrow and let her know when we all come back."
"Very good, miss."
Louisa gave ungrudging admiration, and whispered praise to the young girl. She was proud of Edie's behaviour, and grateful to her too. This atmosphere of reserve did her good. She could not have endured a scene of weeping, and keep her own nerves in check all the while.