Major Ames got up.
“No, I can’t have that,” he said. “I can’t have that!”
“My dear, you have got to have it. You are in a dreadful mess. I, as your wife, am the only person who can get you out of it. I will do my best, anyhow.”
She rang the bell.
“I am going to tell Parker to tell Millie that you are at home if she asks for you, and to show her in here,” she said. “There is no other way that I can see. I do not intend to have nothing more to do with her. At least I want to avoid that, if possible, for that is a weak way out of difficulties. I shall certainly have to see her some time, and there is no use in putting it off. I am afraid, Lyndhurst, that you had better finish your tea at once, or take it upstairs. Take another cup upstairs; you have had but one, and drink it in your dressing-room, in the comfortable chair.”
There was an extraordinary wisdom in this minute attention to detail, and it was by this that she was able to rise to a big occasion. It was necessary that he should feel that her full intention was to forgive him, and make the best of the days that lay before them. She had no great words and noble sentiment with which to convey this impression, but, in a measure, she could show him her mind by minute arrangements for his comfort. But he lingered, irresolute.
“You have got to trust me,” she said. “Do as I tell you, my dear.”
She had not long to wait after he had gone upstairs. She heard the ring at the bell, and next moment Millie came into the room. Her face was flushed, her breathing hurried, her eyes alight with trouble, suspense, and resentment.
“Lyndhurst,” she began. “I waited——”
Then she saw Mrs. Ames, and turned confusedly about, as if to leave the room again. But Amy got up quickly.