In his hansom Wareham reflected that women were difficult to understand in their dealings with each other. Anne had always been charming, why should Millie turn a sharp edge towards her? It was the more astonishing because Millie had nothing of the angular about her. As little would he have imagined that she had the heroic soul. Yet one may call it so when a woman bears the quenching of her hopes without complaint or bitterness. Millie went cheerfully about her daily occupations. Her mother imagined her a little pale, no more. She preferred silence, but talked as usual when it was necessary. Altogether there was nothing to call for remark. Yet in that look she had read Wareham’s heart, the more quickly, perhaps, for the quickening in her own, and before it all the budding hopes which were gently unfolding themselves shrivelled and died. To believe that Miss Dalrymple might reject him would have brought her no comfort, for there still exist women to whom love is so delicate and wonderful a thing that they can only look upon it as eternal, and she was ready to stake her faith upon Wareham’s constancy. One night Mrs Ravenhill unconsciously fell into the channel of her thoughts.
“Fanny has not written?”
“Not a word; so I suppose she waits until she can tell us that something definite has been said or settled.”
“It is too bad of Lord Milborough. I am afraid he is going to object strongly, and yet wishes to avoid upsetting Fanny while he has this large house-party. Or is he really taken up with thoughts and wishes of his own?”
“I wonder,” said Millie.
“If there was ever any truth in that fancy of yours about Mr Wareham, he will add another complication! But I don’t believe it. I think you were determined to create a romance.”
The girl laughed, with successful hiding of the effort.
“Well, we shall hear what Fanny thinks.”
“Poor little Fanny!”
“She will have to fight her own battles and his too.”