"Who?"
"My mother."
Mr. Menemon made no answer, but his face spoke for him.
"Then I will," she cried, and wound her arms about his neck. "I will forgive you for her."
"There is another whom you must forgive as well," he answered, gently.
"But you assured me he had done no wrong."
"Nor has he, I think." He hesitated a second. "Come down-stairs," he added; "we can discuss it better there." And taking her hand in his he led her from the room.
On reaching the parlor below, he drew the portière aside that she might pass, and then, as they say in France, he eclipsed himself. Eden entered unattended. Her father, she supposed, was following her, and she was about to address some remark to him, when before her, in the dim light of twin candelabras, she perceived her husband.
Usselex was standing bolt upright, in the position of one who has come not to render accounts, but to demand them. In his attitude there was nothing of the repentant sinner, and at sight of him Eden felt herself tricked. She turned in search of her father, but he had gone. Then, seeing herself deserted, and yet disdaining retreat, she summoned the princess air which was ever at her bidding, and crossed the room.
"Why have you left the house?" he began, abruptly.