They were just entering the ballroom. “Yes, with your kind help—and absence,” she replied.
The surprise of the guests was somewhat diminished by the fact that Marion, telling General Armour and his wife first of Frank’s return, industriously sent the news buzzing about the room.
The two went straight to Frank’s father and mother. Their parts were all excellently played. Then Frank mingled among the guests, being very heartily greeted, and heard congratulations on all sides. Old club friends rallied him as a deserter, and new acquaintances flocked about him; and presently he awakened to the fact that his Indian wife had been an interest of the season, was not the least admired person present. It was altogether too good luck for him; but he had an uncomfortable conviction that he had a long path of penance to walk before he could hope to enjoy it.
All at once he met Lady Haldwell, who, in spite of all, still accepted invitations to General Armour’s house—the strange scene between Lali and herself never having been disclosed to the family. He had nothing but bitterness in his heart for her, but he spoke a few smooth words, and she languidly congratulated him on his bronzed appearance. He asked for a dance, but she had not one to give him. As she was leaving, she suddenly turned as though she had forgotten something, and looking at him, said: “I forgot to congratulate you on your marriage. I hope it is not too late?”
He bowed. “Your congratulations are so sincere,” he said, “that they would be a propos late or early.” When he stood with his wife whilst the guests were leaving, and saw with what manner she carried it all off,—as though she had been born in the good land of good breeding,—he was moved alternately with wonder and shame—shame that he had intended this noble creature as a sacrifice to his ugly temper and spite.
When all the guests were gone and the family stood alone in the drawing-room, a silence suddenly fell amongst them. Presently Marion said to her mother in a half-whisper, “I wish Richard were here.”
They all felt the extreme awkwardness of the situation, especially when Lali bade General Armour, Mrs. Armour, and Marion good-night, and then, turning to her husband, said, “Good-night”—she did not even speak his name. “Perhaps you would care to ride to-morrow morning? I always go to the Park at ten, and this will be my last ride of the season.”
Had she written out an elaborate proclamation of her intended attitude towards her husband, it could not have more clearly conveyed her mind than this little speech, delivered as to a most friendly acquaintance. General Armour pulled his moustache fiercely, and, it is possible, enjoyed the situation, despite its peril. Mrs. Armour turned to the mantel and seemed tremulously engaged in arranging some bric-a-brac. Marion, however, with a fine instinct, slid her arm through that of Lali, and gently said: “Yes, of course Frank will be glad of a ride in the Park. He used to ride with me every morning. But let us go, us three, and kiss the baby good-night—‘good-night till we meet in the morning.’”
She linked her arm now through Frank’s, and as she did so he replied to Lali: “I shall be glad to ride in the morning, but—”
“But we can arrange it at breakfast,” said his wife hurriedly. At the same time she allowed herself to be drawn away to the hall with her husband.