She spoke very kindly; and by one of those rapid changes of mood and manner which were her greatest charm, her face became suddenly clouded with an expression of gentle sadness.
But Mabin’s unhappiness had been too great to be effaced by a few gentle words. And her pride would not allow her to bend, to come to the explanation her friend might be willing to give.
“You are quite wrong,” she said coldly; “I am glad to see him so happy. I am not jealous.”
And she passed out of the room, as Mrs. Dale invited her to do, and went downstairs with her head very high in the air, and a sense of deep resentment at her heart.
At the dining-room door Rudolph met her, with a rose for her in his hand, and a pretty speech on his lips about her unkindness in hiding herself away for so long. But then, unluckily, Mabin’s sharp eyes detected that he threw a glance of intelligence at Mrs. Dale, and choosing instantly to fancy that there was a little conspiracy between the two to “get round” her, she was so reserved and silent and stiff as to make conciliatory advances impossible.
They had tea on the lawn, but it was a very brief affair, for Rudolph jumped up from his seat in about a minute and a half, and said to Mrs. Dale:
“If you will write it out now, I will take it at once.”
And then, Mrs. Dale, with a nod of intelligence, rose in her turn, and went quickly into the house.
Mabin sat very still, looking at the grass.
“Let me put your cup down, dear,” said Rudolph, who seemed to be subdued by the consciousness of what was in store for him.