Going up to Georgia, he brushed almost rudely past Arlingford, and, offering her his arm, he said coldly:
"You will take cold standing in this draught, my dear; allow me to lead you to the drawing-room."
At his look and tone the smile died away. He saw it, and the scowl deepened.
Placing her on a sofa, he stooped over and said in a hissing whisper in her ear:
"Do not too openly show your preference for the gallant captain this evening, Mrs. Wildair. If you cannot dissimulate for my sake, try it for your own. People will talk, you know, if your partiality is too public."
A flash like sheet-lightning leaped from Georgia's eyes, as the insulting meaning of his words flashed upon her; she caught her breath and sprang to her feet, but with a bow and a smile he turned and was gone.
"Oh, mercy! that I were dead!" was the passionate cry wrung from her anguished heart at this last worst blow of all. "Oh, this is the very climax of wrong and insult! Oh, what, what have I done to be treated thus?"
How this evening passed Georgia never knew. As Miss Harper had said, she was like one in a dream, but it was over at last; and, totally worn out and exhausted, she was sleeping a deep dreamless sleep of utter prostration.
Next morning, at the breakfast table, Henry Gleason suddenly called out—
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, what's to be the bill of fare for to-day?"