Phœbe shrank back.
“Oh, you put it so strongly, Miss Avesham,” she said. “I would not ask you to tell a lie, but if you could just be a little diplomatic, if you could lead Clara off the scent, so to speak.”
“She shall never know,” said Jeannie.
“Thank you so much. And now I will put on my hat and go home. I wonder, Miss Avesham, would it be too much to ask you to come and see us to-morrow morning? I am afraid Clara will be very much upset, and you can deal with her as no one else can. I shall send a line to Dr. Maitland, asking him to come and tell me what I must do.”
And she put on her hat, taking great care to have it straight, and adjusted her silk scarf round her neck.
“It is a little chilly this afternoon,” she said, “and to catch a cold at this time of year is so tiresome. It is curious how much harder it is to throw off a cold in the summer.”
To Jeannie there was something infinitely pathetic about this. The poor lady had a mortal disease, yet the possibility of getting a cold in the head appeared, even at this first stunning moment, to rank at far greater importance in her mind. In a few weeks, now even, she was beyond all mortal aid, yet the adjustment of the silk scarf to shield her throat from possible chills was not less advisable.
The scarf adjusted, Miss Clifford paused again to pull down her veil to its accustomed point. At first it was too low, and then too high; this mattered no less than before. Little pleasures, little pains, seem to have a deeper and more intimate hold over certain natures than the greater calls: a man going out to be hung has been known to complain that his boot hurt him.
Jeannie called at Villa Montrose next morning, and, standing on the steps while the door was being answered, she heard the subdued tremolo of a mandolin. She was shown at once into the drawing-room, and there in Phœbe’s corner was sitting Phœbe, with one leg thrown over the other, in the approved attitude, and in front of her, on a brass music-stand, was Funiculi, Funicula. She got up with alacrity when Jeannie entered.
“A lovely morning, is it not?” she said. “Dr. Maitland was so kind as to come early, and he told me I might get up and spend a quiet morning, going out in the afternoon, if I felt inclined. He recommended a drive, which I think I shall enjoy.”