"Well, I shall meet you in Boston. I will go to the Vendôme for a few days—I often do so—in order to present you to some of my friends. You should see something of its society while there. But I am so sorry you won't stay longer with me." Then she added, in a low voice, "Quintin Ferrars will be in despair. He has so few friends."
"Yes," said Grace, slowly. "That is a pity, and I am sure it is his own fault. Will you tell me something of his past life? I am interested in him, otherwise I suppose I should not care what his past had been. He puzzles me. I feel there is something to be explained, he is so very odd. But I have not le mot de l'énigme."
"No one here knows it, but it is quite right you should. I meant to have told you before. He married a Spanish woman many years ago, a widow. She was a beautiful creature, I am told, and she had an ample fortune, but she turned out to be thoroughly bad. He left her after a few months, and has never seen her since. She returned to the name of her first husband, and washed her hands of Quintin. He never took a farthing of her money, which she has spent chiefly, they say, on Prince Lamperti—"
"Prince Lamperti! Do you mean that that woman, Madame Moretto, is Mr. Ferrars's wife?"
"Yes, that was her first husband's name."
"Good heavens! that explains his strange conduct in New York. He must have seen his wife once when he left us suddenly, and another time I remember his going out of the room abruptly when the Princess Lamperti entered it. But he is divorced, I suppose?"
"No, not yet. I will tell you the whole story. Very few people knew of his marriage; he has no near relations. He was married abroad, and during the short time he and his wife were together, he never came to America. When he learned what she was, he was so disgusted and ashamed that, as she chose to return to her first husband's name, he thought it useless to have the scandal of a divorce. He felt sure he should never wish to marry again, himself—he thinks differently now—and so he tried to forget that terrible episode, though it had left him bruised and embittered, to a degree no one who did not know him before can imagine. Lately, the Princess Lamperti, finding it impossible to reclaim her husband, at last decided to divorce him. Whereupon Madame Moretto resolved to come over here, and live in the State of Rhode Island for six months, in order to sue for her divorce, on the plea of her husband's desertion and want of 'maintenance,' though, as she is a rich woman, and he comparatively a poor man, that is absurd. But Quintin, of course, did not oppose it; and now he is very, very glad. He would have gone on, a miserable, lonely man, to the end of his life, I suppose, if she had not moved in the matter. I hope now he may find consolation and happiness in the course of time."
"He is certainly much to be pitied," said Grace, a little dryly, as it seemed to Mrs. Courtly; "most of all, I think, because his troubles seem to have destroyed his belief in all goodness."
"No, not all goodness; only the greater part of what passes as such. I assure you he never doubts yours."
"I had rather he believed in humanity, generally, than in me, whom I suspect he understands very little."