"And that is--?"
"To keep our temper and--hold our tongue. Goodnight."
And as he said these words, Laurence Alsager rose from his seat and left the room; Bertram had previously taken his departure; so that Laurence walked off alone to his hotel, pondering on all he had seen and heard.
"So she's coming back," he said to himself as he strolled along; "coming back to bring back to me, whenever I may happen to meet her, all the sickening recollections of the old times, the heart-burnings, the heart-breaking, to escape from which I rushed away two years ago. She won the day then, and she'll be as insolent as she can be on the strength of her victory now, though she knows well enough that I did not shoot my best bolt then, but keep it in my quiver yet. It's impossible to fight with a woman; they can descend to so many dodges and meannesses where no man worthy of the name could follow them. No; I'll seek safety in flight. I'll be off again as soon as I've seen the governor; and then--And yet what a strange interest I seem to take in that girl I saw to-night! Poor little child! I wonder if Dollamore's right about her husband. Well, I'll wait a few days, and see what turns up."
While these thoughts were passing through Laurence Alsager's mind, Sir Charles Mitford was leaning against the jambs of the door leading from his dressing-room into his wife's bed-room. He had one boot off, and was vainly endeavouring to discover the hole in the bootjack in which to insert the other foot. The noise which he made in this operation awoke Lady Mitford, who called out, "Oh, Charley, is that you?"
"Course, my dear," said Sir Charles in a thick voice; "who should it be this time o' night? not that it's late, though," he said, correcting himself after a moment's reflection; then looking vacantly at her, added in a high-falsetto key, "quite early."
"You are not ill, Charley?" she asked, looking anxiously at him.
"Not I, my darling; never berrer.--Off at last, are you?" this last observation addressed to the conquered boot. "But you, what's marrer with you? Look all flushed and frightened like."
"I've had a horrid confused dream about the theatre, and people we saw there, and snakes, oh so dreadful! and that grave man, Colonel Somebody, that you introduced me to, was just going to rescue me. Oh, Charley, I feel so low and depressed, and as though something were going to happen. I'm sure we shan't be happy in London. Let's go away again.
"Nonsense, Georgie;--nonsense, my love! Very jolly place for--good supper,--Colonel Snakes;" and with these intelligible murmurings Sir Charles Mitford slipped into the land of dreams.