“Ah, yes,” said Millicent unblushingly—that was her strong point, blushing in the right place, but not in the wrong—“Mr. Oscard is associated with Mr. Meredith, is he not, in this hare-brained scheme?”
“I believe they are together in it—the Simiacine, you mean?” said Jocelyn.
“What else could she mean?” reflected the looker-on.
“Yes—the Simiacine. Such a singular name, is it not? I always say they will ruin themselves suddenly. People always do, don't they? But what do you think of it? I SHOULD like to know.”
“I think they certainly will make a fortune,” replied Jocelyn—and she noted the light in Millicent's eyes with a sudden feeling of dislike—“unless the risks prove too great and they are forced to abandon it.”
“What risks?” asked Millicent, quite forgetting to modulate her voice.
“Well, of course, the Ogowe river is most horribly unhealthy, and there are other risks. The natives in the plains surrounding the Simiacine Plateau are antagonistic. Indeed, the Plateau was surrounded and quite besieged when we left Africa.”
It may have hurt Millicent, but it hurt Jocelyn more—for the smile had left her hearer's face. She was off her guard, as she had been once before when Sir John was near, and Millicent's face betrayed something which Jocelyn saw at once with a sick heart—something that Sir John knew from the morning when he had seen Millicent open two letters—something that Lady Cantourne had known all along.
“And was Mr. Meredith on the Plateau when it was besieged?” asked Millicent, with a drawn, crooked smile.
“Yes,” answered Jocelyn. She could not help seizing the poor little satisfaction of this punishment; but she felt all the while that it was nothing to the punishment she was bearing, and would bear all her life. There are few more contradictory things than the heart of a woman who really loves. For one man it is very tender; for the rest of the world it is the hardest heart on earth if it is called upon to defend the object of its love or the love itself.