“What then, pray?”
“To plead with you. For Heaven’s sake do not distrust me. It may ruin those whom you hold dear. Listen to me first, and try to believe me afterwards.”
He was so thoroughly in earnest, so impressive in manner, that she did not know what to make of him. In her despair, she adopted a woman’s chief resource—her eyes filled with tears.
But he anticipated her.
“Now, Mrs. Hillmer,” he cried, “let us act like sensible people. Compose yourself, order in some tea, and after an interlude I will tell you all about it. Candor is an indispensable element of confidence.”
Mrs. Hillmer rose, made an effort to choke back her agitation, went out, and called to the maid for tea. She returned in a few moments. When they were alone Bruce said, with a smile:
“A little poudre de ris is an excellent corrective for signs of grief.”
The lady blushed, and there was a perceptible return to her former pleasant manner.
“You are incorrigible, I fear,” she cried.
“Not a bit. Impressionable, rather. Now, I am going to startle you considerably, so be prepared. And do not jump at conclusions. Though startling, my news is not alarming. All may yet end well.”