She sprang to her feet. She had no tears, but it seemed as if something had its teeth at her vitals and was tearing them as a tiger tears its victim. She walked aimlessly up and down the room until exhausted, then went mechanically to bed.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE INEVITABLE.
Late in the day her maid awoke her and said that Mrs. Dykman was down-stairs.
Hermia hesitated; then she bade the girl bring the visitor up to her boudoir. It was as well for several reasons that Mrs. Dykman should know.
She thrust her feet into a pair of night-slippers, drew a dressing-gown about her, and went into the next room. Mrs. Dykman, as she entered a moment later, raised her level brows.
“Hermia!” she said, “what is the matter?”
Hermia glanced at herself in the mirror. She shuddered a little at her reflection. “Several things,” she said, briefly. “Sit down.”
Mrs. Dykman, with an extremely uncomfortable sensation, took a chair. On the occasion of her first long conversation with Hermia she had made up her mind that her new-found relative would one day electrify the world by some act which her family would strive to forget. How she wished Hermia had been cast in that world’s conventional mold! It had come! She was convinced of that, as she looked at Hermia’s face. What had she done?