But Mary Grey was gone with all her magic arts, and the very atmosphere seemed clearer and brighter for her absence.
"As soon as you have rested a little come up to your room, Laura, and lay on your wraps. Tea will be ready by the time we come down again. And, Mrs. Lytton, your old attendant, Jerome, will show you to your apartment," said the young hostess, as she arose, with a smile, to conduct her guest.
They left the drawing-room together.
And while Laura Lytton was arranging her toilet in the chamber above stairs, Emma Cavendish told her the particulars of Mary Grey's departure, and also of the letter she had received from her long-estranged relative, Mrs. Fanning.
They went down to tea, where they were joined by Electra and the Rev. Dr. Jones.
Miss Cavendish presented Mr. Lytton to Dr. Jones. And then they sat down to the table.
Alden Lytton's eyes and thoughts were naturally enough occupied and interested in Emma Cavendish. He had not exactly fallen in love with her, but he was certainly filled with admiration for the loveliest girl he had ever seen. And he could but draw involuntary comparisons between the fair, frank, bright maiden and the beautiful, alluring widow.
Both were brilliant, but with this difference: the one with the pure life-giving light of Heaven, and the other with the fatal fire of Tartarus.
After tea they went into the drawing-room, where they spent a long evening talking over old times—their "old times" being something less than one year of age.
And every hour confirmed Alden Lytton's admiration of Emma Cavendish.