Mary was not crying. On the contrary, her eyes were hard. She was pale and serious.
“I know that I’ve done a thing which you don’t approve. You think that I’m going to leave you all for good. I hope that I shall show you soon that you are wrong. Do me justice, Jinny. You have never seen me try to get out of my station. I shall do whatever Mr.—, my husband, wishes, of course—but I will never turn my back on my people. Nor would he ask it of me—be sure of that. I can’t say any more—except that you have hurt me by what you have said—and that five minutes after I’ve gone away, you’ll be sorry.” Then she choked down something, and Jinny was sorry.
“Molly, I’ve been a brute——”
“No, no.”
“But I have. I’m proud of you, really—you looked quite a beauty in your French clothes——”
“Jinny! Beside you I’m a little brown mouse.”
“You’re not, my dear. You’re as sharp as any needle. You’ll be one of them in a month, and they’ll be the first to own it. I could see that old Lady Rewish look you over—and nod her wicked old head. She knows, bless you! Little Moll, forgive your tiresome sister—kiss me now——”
“Darling Jinny, darling Jinny——”
They clung, wept, and kissed; and presently a radiant bride went down to meet her lord.
Good-byes were said in haste. Jinny promised there should be no rice. A momentary flush of cordiality warmed the unhappy guests. Lady Barbara kissed the bride on both cheeks; Jinny hovered about her, eager now to show her contrition. Wonder of all, Mr. Germain, saluted her fair cheek. Jinny was seen to blush. Riceless, slipperless they went their way—and the party dissolved like smoke.