“You are more lovely than ever,” she said, “and you have made me so happy I have nothing left to wish for in the world.”
They remained in New York several days, and the old lady, in spite of her happiness, did not forget her dead daughter-in-law. She ordered a beautiful bouquet, and drove alone to Greenwood to lay it on Camille’s grave.
“I would have gone with you if I had known,” Thea said, when she told her where she had been.
“I would have asked you, dear, only I knew Norman would not like it.”
“Not like it? But will he not go there himself?” Thea asked, a slight flush rising to her fair brow.
“No; I do not believe that he will. He was most unreasonably harsh toward poor Camille. They were separated through his jealousy, you know, dear, and no harm was ever really proved against her, but he never forgave her—does not even forgive her in her grave, I fear. But there, I ought not to be talking with you, child, about Norman’s first wife. He would not like it, I am sure, so do not tell him I went to Camille’s grave. Poor soul! I could not slight her memory.”
“You were fond of her?” Thea asked, timidly.
“Yes; but not so much as I am of you, Sweetheart. She was a little strange at times, and so fond of Norman that I fancy she was jealous even of his love for his mother. But naturally I forgave her that. I think if Heaven had blessed her as it has you, dear, that no trouble would have come between them. But it chafed her that no child came, and she threw herself into the whirl of society. She was too fond of admiration. My dear, never forget that your husband is a passionately jealous man. Never trifle with his heart.”
“I will not,” Thea promised; and after the old lady went out she sat a long time thinking compassionately of the woman who had been Norman’s wife long years ago, and who now lay dead, so bitterly hated still that he would not visit her grave.
Norman had gone to see his publisher about a book he was just bringing out, so Thea had several hours of solitude in which to brood over what her mother-in-law had most unwisely told her. She could not help feeling sad over it.