“Yes,” sighed Renée; “but so weak and easily led away. Spoken to him, Gertrude? No, dear. As his wife, I have felt that I must ignore such things. I would not know that he visited such places—that he gambled—that he returned home excited. I have put all such thoughts aside, and met him always with the same smile of welcome, when my heart has been well-nigh broken.”
“My poor sister!” whispered Gertrude, drawing her head to her breast and thinking of the husband and establishment that her mother had arranged for her to possess.
“But this I feel that I cannot bear,” cried Renée impetuously. “It is too great an outrage!”
“Oh, Ren, Ren!” whispered Gertrude, “do not judge him too rashly; wait and see—it may be all a mistake.”
“Mistake!” said Renée bitterly; “did you not see him driving that woman out? Did you not see her occupying the place that should be mine?”
“Yes—yes,” faltered Gertrude; “but still there may be some explanation.”
“Yes,” said Renée at last, as she dried her tears and sat up, looking very cold and stern; “there may be, and we will wait and see. At all events, I will not say one single harsh word.”
Gertrude left her at last quite calm and composed, the brougham being ordered for her use, and she sat back thinking of John Huish with the dark lady; but only to smile, for no jealous fancy troubled her breast.
End of Volume One.