'There is a flatterer beyond us all, Fanny—your own mirror.'
She laughed at this, but there was undoubted sadness in her laugh.
'Intolerable!' muttered Annabelle, and unwilling to hear more of this mysterious conversation she withdrew in grief and dismay, followed by Mary, who knew not what to make or to think of the whole situation.
They had barely reached home when Fotheringhame came punctually to luncheon, wearing the same dress he had worn at the peculiar assignation, easy and frank in manner, with his usual smile of tenderness for Annabelle, who strove to hide the coldness of her manner and the ire of her spirit, but utterly failed to check the nervous quiver of her sensitive lip.
Mary, who had to act as hostess, and who had no personal interest in this matter, scarcely knew what to do, or how to comport herself, full as she was of disappointment and just indignation. The abstraction of her manner was apparent to Leslie Fotheringhame, who scored it down to Falconer's affair; and as Sir Piers, Mrs. Garth, and Hew were all absent, she was thankful for the attendance of Tunley on the trio; but the luncheon proceeded with indescribable slowness and oppressive silence—a silence broken only by strained and disjointed remarks.
At last the cold fowl, patés, etc., were discussed, and a move was made to the drawing-room, where Mary did not follow the pair of lovers, over whom she saw a stormy cloud was impending, and thought the sooner it burst the better for them both—for Annabelle most certainly—and Mary's tender heart seemed to bleed for the proud girl's humiliation.
'My dearest Belle,' said Fotheringhame, attempting to take her hands caressingly in his the moment they were alone, 'what is the matter to-day—why this gloom and coldness of manner to me? In what have I erred or offended you?'
He gazed at her appealingly and passionately; but she snatched her hands away, and drew herself haughtily up to her full height, while her proud white face only expressed much scorn and much grief too.
'You treated me once shamefully, Leslie,' she began.
'Let the dead past bury its dead,' said he, beseechingly; 'and now, dearest Annabelle——'