But no words passed till, rousing herself, Lady Gernon sought to remove any strange impression her utterances might have made—sought, but in vain, for she had unwittingly sown seeds that had already begun to germinate, striking root deeply in her husband’s breast, soon to flourish for ill in a way that should defy her utmost efforts to uproot them.
Food for Suspicion.
“Who?” exclaimed Mrs Norton, aghast, as her servant hurriedly made an announcement.
“Sir Murray and Lady Gernon. I saw the carriage come in at the lower gate. There they are, ma’am,” said the girl, as the grating of wheels upon the drive preceded a loud peal at the bell.
“For Heaven’s sake be calm, Philip!” exclaimed Mrs Norton, as she saw him turn ghastly pale, all save the great scar upon his face, which seemed to glow and throb.
“Not at home! We can’t see them!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
“Too late,” she said, unwittingly giving him another pang, as she quoted his despairing words of the day when he had last seen Marion. “But, Philip, love, dear husband, recollect yourself,” she whispered imploringly; and then, trying to recover her composure, she rose as Sir Murray and Lady Gernon entered the room—the former courtly and at ease, the latter to run to Ada, throw her arms round her neck, and kiss her fondly, holding her for a few moments to her throbbing breast, while, overcome by the warmth of the greeting, Mrs Norton as lovingly returned the embrace.
To her great delight, though, as she raised her eyes from her cousin, it was to see that, quite composed and courteously, Philip Norton had advanced to meet his guest, they had shaken hands, and Norton had now turned to greet Marion.
Ada’s heart palpitated, and she hardly dared watch her husband, but turned to look at Sir Murray, who was narrowly scanning every glance and act. But Lady Gernon’s greeting of her old lover was graceful, kind, and yet dignified; her every word and look was unimpeachable, and Ada Norton’s agitation gave place to a feeling of thankfulness as she saw her husband take Marion’s hand without a shade crossing his countenance, press it slightly in a frank greeting, and then place for her a chair; when, apparently himself relieved, Sir Murray engaged his wife’s cousin in conversation, his old stiff, courtly manner being more proud and polished than ever, as he talked of their long absence, the changes that had taken place, expressing, too, a hope that he should see her often at the Castle.