They were, as he had predicted, very comfortable at the hotel. With astonishing tact, Harry forebore to press his grievances against his wife, and devoted himself to banishing the remembrance of the “clever man who could do everything” by taking her to theaters and picture galleries, and to the park, and to expensive dinners at the best restaurants, with an assiduity which could not fail to touch her. Indeed Annie did not quite know what a happy passage in her life this was until after it was over. She wished to be, and she thought she was, tormented a little by self- reproach caused by her bad treatment of Aubrey Cooke; but the feeling was not strong enough to outweigh the delightful sense of repose she began to feel in the consciousness that she was surrounded by a great love. Her husband was so watchful, so affectionate, refrained so consistently from exacting demands of demonstrative fondness from her, that she had no time, no excuse for such a sentiment as real regret. He insisted, against her will, upon taking her to and from the theater to rehearsal, and asked her, when she objected, whether she was ashamed of him.
“If you are, say I am an old servant of the family,” said he, proudly.
But Annie silenced him imperiously; and the confession she made in the theater that she was married, and that the handsome young fellow who brought her backward and forward was her husband, while it brought down upon her some accusations of coquetry, sent her up in popular opinion as the possessor of such a tall, well-bred-looking lord and master.
Life had gone on very smoothly in this way for nearly a week, and it was the day before the opening night of “Nathalie,” when Harry, finding himself at the end of his ready money, thought of changing his check.
In the evening Annie noticed that he was rather preoccupied during dinner, and when she asked whether he had got some gloves he had promised her, he said he had not been able to get them yet, but she should have them on the morrow.
“Did you change the check, Harry? You said you would give the money to me to take care of,” she suggested, laughing.
“No, I haven’t changed it. The fact is,” he continued, seeing a look of perplexity on his wife’s face. “George has overdrawn his account a good deal, and they won’t cash such a big check until they have heard from him.”
“But fifty pounds is not such a very large sum; and your family has banked there for years and years, I know. Doesn’t it seem rather strange, Harry, that they should refuse when they know you so well?”
This was a rather unfortunate suggestion, as the character of the Braithwaite boys had not always stood high in money matters; but Harry only said:
“Oh, it will be all right, of course! I wrote to George this afternoon, and I shall get an answer to-morrow or Monday. Don’t you feel awfully nervous about to-morrow night?”