Mrs. Bellamy laughed a little.
“Why, can’t you see? Don’t you know how he hates your husband?”
Monica’s face blanched a little.
“But you don’t mean——”
“No, no, of course not,” with a short laugh that had little of mirth in it. “I don’t mean anything—only I think, if ever Conrad is lurking about in his wild moods, that Lord Trevlyn had better keep a sharp look out. Your woods and cliffs are nasty lonely places, and it’s always well to be on the safe side.”
Monica sat pale and silent; Mrs. Bellamy laughed again in that half uneasy way.
“Now, don’t look like that, and keep your own counsel. I’m a silly woman, as you know, and nobody minds what I say, but I can’t be quite comfortable without just warning you. For mischief is sometimes done in a moment between two angry men that never can be undone so long as the world lasts. Now don’t go and get frightened, Monica—it may be all a ridiculous fancy; but just keep your eyes open.”
“Thank you, Cecilia,” said Monica quietly. “I will.”
