“Mrs. Hayford was mistaken. Hugh is not engaged to Bessie, and I am Mrs. Giles Thornton,” she said, a little bitterly. “My ambition ought to be satisfied. I have made my own bed and must lie in it, and go on lying, too!”
She smiled faintly at her own joke and then continued: “If I had only resisted and come back Mildred Leach! But it is now too late, and Hugh will always despise me for the deception. Oh, Hugh!”
There was a spasmodic wringing of the hands, and then, as if ashamed of herself Mildred said, “I must not, will not be faithless to my husband, who loves me, I know, and I will be worthy of his love and make him happy, so help me Heaven!”
The vow was made and Mildred would keep it to the death. The might have been, which has broken so many hearts when the knowledge came too late, was put away and buried deep down in the inmost recesses of her soul, and when two hours later she awoke from a refreshing sleep and found her husband sitting by her, she put her hand in his just as she had never put it before, and did not shrink from him when he stooped down to caress her.
CHAPTER VII.
CALLS AT THE PARK.
It was early the next morning when Mildred arose and stepping out upon the balcony looked toward the town which had changed so much since she was there last. Across the noisy little river which went dashing along in its rocky bed at the foot of the mountain, one or two tall stacks of manufactories were belching forth their smoke, while new churches and hotels and villas dotted what had been pasture lands when she went away. Standing upon tiptoe she could see the chimney top of her old home, and just over it, up the mountain road, the evergreens in the cemetery where her father and Charlie were lying.
“I’ll go there some day alone and find their graves,” she was thinking when her husband joined her.
“I am sure you are better, you look so fresh and bright; but it is time you were getting ready for breakfast,” he said, as he gave her a little caress.
And Mildred was very bright when she at last went with her husband to the breakfast-room, a half-opened rose which he had gathered for her at her throat, and another at her belt. It was her first appearance at her own table, and Mr. Thornton led her proudly to her seat behind the coffee urn and looked at her admiringly while she assumed the rôle of mistress as naturally as if she had all her life been accustomed to her present surroundings. Alice had kissed her effusively as she came in, hoping she was quite well and thinking her more beautiful than on the previous day. Gerard, who was less demonstrative but more observant than his sister, greeted her cordially and then sat watching her, curious and puzzled by something in her face or manner or voice which seemed familiar to him.
“She is dazzlingly lovely. I wonder how Bessie will look beside her,” he thought, as after breakfast he started for the farm house as was his daily custom.