When ’Lena came down to bid her host and hostess good-night, the former retained her hand, while he expressed his sorrow at her leaving so soon. “I meant to have seen more of you,” said he, “but you must visit us often—will you not?”
Neither the action nor the words escaped Mrs. Graham’s observation, and the lecture which she that night read her offending spouse, had the effect to keep him awake until the morning was growing gray in the east. Then, when he was asleep, he so far forgot himself and the wide-open ears beside him as actually to breathe the name of ’Lena in his dreams!
Mrs. Graham needed no farther confirmation of her suspicions, and at the breakfast-table next morning, she gave her son a lengthened account of her husband’s great sin in dreaming of a young girl, and that girl ’Lena Rivers. Durward laughed heartily and then, either to tease his mother, or to make his father’s guilt less heinous in her eyes, he replied, “It is a little singular that our minds should run in the same channel, for, I, too, dreamed of ’Lena Rivers!”
Poor Mrs. Graham. A double task was now imposed upon her—that of watching both husband and son; but she was accustomed to it, for her life, since her second marriage, had been one continued series of watching for evil where there was none. And now, with a growing hatred toward ’Lena, she determined to increase her vigilance, feeling sure she should discover something if she only continued faithful to the end.
CHAPTER XIII.
MABEL.
The morning following the party, Mr. Livingstone’s family were assembled in the parlor, discussing the various events of the previous night. John Jr., ’Lena, and Anna declared themselves to have been highly pleased with everything, while Carrie in the worst of humors, pronounced it “a perfect bore,” saying she never had so disagreeable a time in all her life, and ending her ill-natured remarks by a malicious thrust at ’Lena, for having so long kept Mr. Bellmont at her side.
“I suppose you fancy he would have looked better with you, but I think he showed his good taste by preferring ’Lena,” said John Jr.; then turning toward the large easy-chair, where Mabel sat, pale, weary, and spiritless, he asked “how she had enjoyed herself.”
With the exception of his accustomed “good-morning,” this was the first time he had that day addressed her, and it was so unexpected, that it brought a bright glow to her cheek, making John Jr. think she was “not so horribly ugly after all.”
But she was very unfortunate in her answer, which was, “that on account of her ill health, she seldom enjoyed anything of the kind.” Then pressing her hand upon her forehead, she continued, “My head is aching dreadfully, as a punishment for last night’s dissipation.”
Three times before, he had heard her speak of her aching head, and now, with an impatient gesture, he was turning away, when his mother said, “Poor girl, she really looks miserable. I think a ride would do her good. Suppose you take her with you—I heard you say you were going to Versailles.”