“Very well,” said Vivienne with a wise shake of her head, and she went upstairs to Judy who was hanging over the railing above.
“It is shocking about Flora,” she murmured; “but if I allow him to meditate so much on these family problems he will become distracted.”
CHAPTER XXIX
THE MICMAC KEEPS HIS CHARGE
February passed away, and March came—"March that blusters and March that blows, March the pathway that leads to the rose"—the month hailed with delight because it breaks the back of the Nova Scotian winter.
In a lamblike and gentle manner it succeeded snowy February, with a brilliant sun, not too high winds, and thawing, melting rivulets in every direction running from rapidly-melting snow-banks. But after the first of the month there was a change. Jack Frost again clouded the windows, an icy hand was laid on the rivulets, the snow-banks no longer decreased in size, and there were two whole weeks of outdoor skating.
Lent had begun and the winter gayeties had ceased. Mrs. Colonibel, missing the stimulus of a constant round of excitement and forced to think constantly of her changed position in the household, was a different woman.
Nominally she still retained her old place; in reality it was the young French girl who was the mistress, who was consulted on all possible occasions while she was ignored. She accepted the situation with rather more grace than might have been expected and only on rare occasions offered a protest. A kind of reluctant admiration for Vivienne had sprung up in her breast. She knew that the girl on one pretext and another was delaying her marriage because she feared that Armour, though willing to indulge her on every other point would probably be firm with regard to this one; his cousin would not be allowed to remain in his house nor to retain the slightest authority in household affairs—she must make room for the young wife.
At the close of one sunny Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Colonibel approaching her glass with a kind of horror at her altered appearance, carefully applied some rouge to her cheeks and then went drearily downstairs.
It was nearly dinner time, but Valentine was the only person in the drawing room. Judy and Vivienne were with Stargarde, with whom they spent the greater part of their time. Stanton had not yet come and Colonel Armour was dining in town.
Valentine stood by the window, his hands behind his back, his eyes bent on the long, glassy expanse of the Arm, where a number of boys were skimming to and fro like swallows. He looked around as Mrs. Colonibel entered the room. His face too, was restless and unhappy, and to conceal it he turned his back on her and moved toward the open conservatory door.