As he took her hand his all-seeing gaze detected a slight indication of anxiety, and he knew that his presence was not at that moment desired by Mrs. Wylie. Due credit is not always given to us men for the possession of eyes. Our womenfolk are apt to forget that we move just as much as they, and in most cases infinitely more in the world, and among the world's shoals and quicksands. We may not be so quick at reading superficial indications as our mothers, sisters, or wives; but I think many of us (while keeping vanity in bounds) are much more capable of perceiving when our presence is desired or distasteful than is usually supposed. There are some of us, methinks, who, if chivalry failed to withhold our tongues, could tell of very decided preferences shown, and shown unsought; of glances, and even words, advanced to guide us whither the water runs smoothly. And let us hope that if such have been the case, we turn to the rougher channel we love better, without a smile of self-conceit.
Twice within the last hour Theodore Trist had perceived that there was a reason why those who held Alice Huston dearest should desire that he avoided meeting her. What this reason was her own husband had unwittingly told him; confirming brutally what he had read in Brenda's unconsciously expressive face a few moments before. And yet, in face of this undoubted knowledge, he seemed deliberately to court the danger that the two women feared, and sought to avert.
He was not a man to be blinded by a false impression. Nor was he one of those who act impulsively. His mind was of too practical, too steady, and too concentrated a type to be suddenly conquered by a mere prompting of the heart. At this juncture of his life he acted coolly and with foresight. Of Alice Huston he knew enough to feel quite sure of his mastery over her. If she loved him (which supposition had been thrown in his face many times since the evening when he had first been called upon to give assistance to those who stood in Captain Huston's little cabin), he did not appear in the least afraid of his own capability of killing that love.
He turned from Mrs. Wylie and greeted the younger woman, who followed her, with a self-possessed smile; and from his manner even Mrs. Wylie could gather nothing, and she was no mean reader of human faces. She glanced at them as they stood together on the stairs and asked herself a question:
'What part is he playing, that of a scoundrel or a fool?'
She could not conceive a third alternative just then, because she did not know Alice Huston so well as Theo Trist knew her.
Before Mrs. Huston, who was blushing very prettily, had time to speak, Trist imparted his news with a certain rapid bluntness.
'Your husband is upstairs,' he said. 'Brenda will keep him in the drawing-room for a few minutes. I have a bag here with some necessaries for you. Will you come with me, or will you go upstairs to your husband?'
'Will ... I ... go with you?' stammered the beautiful woman in a frightened whisper. 'Where to, Theo?'
Mrs. Wylie leant against the broad balustrade and breathed rapidly. She was really alarmed, but even fear could not conquer her indomitable placidity.