"They say dreams are always fulfilled in just the reverse way," she told herself. "Meeting my husband again was the happiest thing that ever happened to me; so why should not last night's horrible fancies, which were exactly similar in character, portend some unexpected blessing? Oh, I am growing too sillily superstitious! Wallace is quite right; this house isn't good for me. But I shall leave it soon; and this month my husband's home will be mine. Nothing can part us now—nothing!"
In spite of her assumed brave front, Laline could not get rid of the unpleasant impression produced by her night fancies; and when she joined Clare Cavan at the breakfast-table, that young lady commented at once upon her altered appearance.
"My dearest Lina, you look so pale and so upset! What is it? Did you overtire yourself yesterday? You were out with some friends from your old school, were you not?"
Looking up suddenly, Laline perceived the lurking malice in the speaker's eyes and boldly took up the challenge Clare had thrown down.
"I was with Mr. Armstrong," she answered, in clear, firm tones, "skating in the grounds of his uncle's house at Hampstead."
"With Mr. Wallace Armstrong?" Clare inquired, in tones of assumed surprise and anxiety.
"Yes. I thought I saw you at the window watching us drive up to the house," Laline observed, calmly.
"Well, I certainly thought it was you and he," the ingenuous Clare returned, "but in the dark I couldn't be sure. I am so sorry!"
"Why should you be sorry?"
"Well, I hardly like to tell you; and yet perhaps I ought to. Of course you know that Mr. Armstrong admired me very much and paid me a great deal of attention? Well, I liked him too, as you know; but certain facts about him came into my possession yesterday which made me resolve to ask Aunt Cecilia to drop him for the future."