Usually she avoided Alden Lytton on these occasions, refraining even from looking toward him during the church service or afterward, for she did not wish him to suppose that she sought his notice.
But now she had a fair and good excuse for speaking to him; so when the service was over and the congregation was leaving the church she waited at the door of her pew until Alden passed by, when she said, very meekly and coolly:
"Mr. Lytton, may I speak with you a moment?"
"Certainly, madam," said Alden, stopping at once.
"I have a letter from dearest Emma, but I can not answer it. Ah, my poor crippled finger! Would you be so very kind as to write and tell my darling that I have received it and how much I thank her? And here; perhaps, as you are to acknowledge the letter for me, you had better read it. There is really nothing in it that a mutual friend may not see," she said, drawing the letter from her pocket and putting it into his hand.
"Certainly, madam, if you wish me to do so; certainly, with much pleasure," answered Alden Lytton, with more warmth than he had intended; because, in truth, he was beginning to feel delight in every subject that concerned Emma Cavendish, and he was now especially pleased with having the privilege of reading her letter and the duty of acknowledging it.
"Many thanks! You are very kind! Good-morning," said Mary Grey, with discreet coolness, as she passed on before him to leave the church.
"Step number two! I shall soon have him in my power again!" chuckled the coquette, as she walked down the street toward her dwelling.
For Mary Grey had utterly misinterpreted the warmth of Alden Lytton's manner in acceding to her request. It never entered her mind to think that this warmth had anything to do with the idea of Emma Cavendish. She was much too vain to be jealous.
She did not really think that there was a man in the world who could withstand her charms, or a woman in the world who could become her rival.