"He said that when I stopped making the plunge I should be better," Blanche replied simply. "But I'm not better; I feel worse,—oh, so much worse! I know I should be better if I tried it again. And I sha'n't be afraid any more," she repeated,—"even for Jeanne. It would be so much better for us all!"
This speech made Mrs. Tate wonder if, as her husband had suggested, Blanche had divined that Jules had cared for her performance rather than for herself, and fancied she could win him back by resuming it. Her interest increased when she learned that Jules and Miss King had not spoken to each other for two evenings. Miss King's maid, who had at last come from Manchester, and who knew a little Canadian French, had told Madeleine about it. Jules had urged Miss King to accept Marshall's terms, and was vexed with her because she refused and threatened to go back to America. This had made him even more disagreeable at home than he had been before; for the past few days he had not spoken one pleasant word to them, and he had not even noticed Jeanne.
It was this information that rang in Mrs. Tate's consciousness when she had left the apartment. Jules and that woman had quarrelled! Of course, they would make it up again,—perhaps in a few days, perhaps that very day; but if they did not, the quarrel might be one of the means of winning him back to his wife. At any rate, she would speak to her husband about it. When, on her return home, she did speak, he burst out laughing.
"I don't see how you can find anything funny in that!" she said resentfully. "It's a very serious matter."
"But it threatens to spoil my beautiful little romance!"
"Your beautiful romance? What do you mean?"
"If you had persuaded her to go back to her diving, and if she drove the other woman out of the field in that way, it would be a proof of my theory that he's fallen in love with the performance and not with the performer. But if his wife gets him back again now, it will be merely because the other woman has broken with him. There's nothing for him to do except to go back to his wife and be forgiven."
"Well, I don't care what the reason is—if she only gets him back. She'll certainly die of jealousy and misery if she doesn't,—that's plain enough. In my opinion, Dr. Broughton was entirely wrong in his diagnosis of the case. She says herself that she misses her diving and she wants to take it up again. Her rest hasn't done her a particle of good. Anyway, I'll speak to the Doctor about it to-morrow. I'll write a note, and ask him to come in for tea if he can."
"And hold another council of war," her husband suggested.
"A council of peace," she retorted smartly. "Oh, I know what you're thinking of! But I'm determined to undo the harm I've done. There's no time to be lost. If I can get that poor little woman to resume her plunge while the husband's still quarrelling with the other performer, I feel sure everything will come out all right. He'll be interested in her again. Don't you remember how he used to brag about her? I suppose you don't, but he did; and I could tell that he was as proud of her as if she were the most wonderful creature in the world."