For a couple of days she saw nothing of Hubert. On the third there came excellent news of Roger, who had taken a marked turn for the better, and had passed the crisis. She had declined, for the evening, a certain attractive invitation; but on the receipt of these tidings she revoked her refusal. Coming down to the drawing-room with Mrs. Keith, dressed and shawled, she found Hubert in waiting, with a face which uttered bad news. Roger’s improvement had been momentary, a relapse had followed, and he was worse than ever. She tossed off her shawl with an energy not unnoted by her duenna. “Of course I cannot go,” she said. “It is neither possible nor proper.” Mrs. Keith would have given her biggest bracelet that this thing should not have happened in just this way; but she submitted with a good grace,—for a duenna. Hubert went down with her to her carriage. At the foot of the stairs she stopped, and while gathering up her skirts, “Mr. Lawrence,” she demanded, “are you going to remain here?”
“A little while,” said Hubert, with his imperturbable smile.
“A very little while, I hope.” She had been wondering whether admonition would serve as a check or a stimulus. “I need hardly tell you that the young lady up stairs is not a person to be trifled with.”
“I hardly know what you mean,” said Hubert. “Am I a person to trifle?”
“Is it serious, then?”
Hubert hesitated a moment. She perceived a sudden watchful quiver in his eye, like a sword turned edge outward. She unsheathed one of her own steely beams, and for the tenth of a second there was a dainty crossing of blades. “I admire Miss Lambert,” cried Hubert, “with all my heart.”
“True admiration,” said Mrs. Keith, “is one half respect and the other half self-denial.”
Hubert laughed, ever so politely. “I will put that into a sermon,” he said.
“O, I have a sermon to preach you,” she answered. “Take your hat and go.”
He looked very grave: “I will go up and get my hat.” Mrs. Keith, catching his eye as he closed the carriage door, wished to Heaven that she had held her tongue. “I have done him injustice,” she murmured as she went. “I have fancied him light, but I see he’s vicious.” Hubert, however, kept his promise in so far as that he did take up his hat. Having held it a moment he put it down. He had reckoned without his hostess! Nora was seated by the fire, with her bare arms folded, with a downcast brow. Dressed in pale corn-color, her white throat confined by a band of blue velvet overstitched with a dozen pearls, she was not a subject for summary farewells. Meeting her eyes, he saw they were filled with tears. “You must not take this thing too hard,” he said.