“I have just come from Charles Street,” he said, recovering himself instantly, “where I expected to find you. But I dare say you have been more amused here than you would have been there. The narrow footpaths and shady woodland walks are generally pleasanter than the broad high-road.”
“Is that a truism, or an allegory? If the latter, it bears no application to my visit here.”
“Doesn’t it really? You don’t mean that you, Mrs. Vansittart’s husband, call upon Signora Vivanti in the beaten way of friendship?”
“In friendship, at least, if not in the beaten way; but whatever my motive in visiting that lady, I don’t admit your right to question me about it; or”—with a laugh—“to resort to allegory. Good day to you.”
He ran down the steps to his hansom, and Sefton went slowly up the three flights of stone stairs which led to Signora Vivanti’s bower, brooding angrily upon his encounter with Vansittart. He had never been able to extort any admissions from Lisa about this man. She had been secret as the grave; yet he was convinced that her past history was the history of an intrigue with Vansittart; and after that effusive greeting from the boat, and remembering the expression of her face more than two years ago, as she hung upon his arm on the Embankment, he was convinced that she loved him still, and that this passion was the cause of her coldness to him, Wilfred Sefton.
CHAPTER XXV.
“AND EVERY GENTLE PASSION SICK TO DEATH.”
Although in his leisurely ascent to the third story Mr. Sefton had time to recover the appearance of serenity, he was by no means master of himself as he waited for Lisa’s door to be opened. Still less was he master of himself when the door was opened by Lisa herself, looking flushed and excited, her eyes brilliant with newly shed tears.
He went through the little vestibule and into the sunlit drawing-room with the air of a man who had the right to enter unbidden, and flung himself sullenly into one of Lisa’s basket chairs, which creaked under his weight.
“It is very late,” said Lisa, evidently fluttered and uneasy. “I ought to be starting for the theatre.”