Lady Ilfield smiled with the air of a person possessed of superior knowledge.
"My dear Lady Chandos," she said, "it is time your eyes were opened; you are about the only person in London who does not know that Lord Chandos is Madame Vanira's shadow."
"I do not believe it," was the indignant reply. "I would not believe it, Lady Ilfield, if all London swore it."
Lady Ilfield laughed, and the tinge of contempt in that laugh made the gentle heart beat with indignation. She rose from her seat.
"I do not doubt," she said, "that you came to tell me this with a good-natured intention. I will give you credit for that always, Lady Ilfield, when I remember this painful scene, but I have faith in my husband. Nothing can shake it. And if the story you tell be true, I am quite sure Lord Chandos can give a good explanation of it. Permit me to say good-morning, Lady Ilfield, and to decline any further conversation on the matter."
"For all that," said Lady Ilfield to herself, "you will have to suffer, my lady; you refuse to believe it, but the time will come when you will have to believe it and deplore it."
Yet Lady Ilfield was not quite satisfied when she went away.
While to Lady Chandos had come the first burst of an intolerable pain, her first anguish of jealousy, her only emotion at the commencement of the conversation was one of extreme indignation. It was a calumny, she told herself, and she had vehemently espoused her husband's cause; but when she was alone and began to think over what had been said her faith was somewhat shaken.
It was a straightforward story. Captain and Lady Evelyn Blake were quite incapable of inventing such a thing. Then she tried to remember how Tuesday had passed. It came back to her with a keen sense of pain that on Tuesday she had not seen him all day. He had risen early and had gone out, leaving word that he should not return for luncheon. She had been to a morning concert, and had stayed until nearly dinner-time with the countess. When she returned to Stoneland House he was there; they had a dinner-party, and neither husband nor wife had asked each other how the day was spent. She remembered it now. Certainly so far his absence tallied with the story; but her faith in her husband was not to be destroyed by the gossip of people who had nothing to do but talk.
What was it Lady Ilfield had said? That she was the only person in London who did not know that her husband was Madame Vanira's shadow. Could that be true? She remembered all at once his long absences, his abstraction; how she wondered if he had any friends whom he visited long and intimately.