CHAPTER XXXI.
If Cecil had been angry with his wife when he first entered the house, his interview with his mother did not tend to lessen his resentment.
She told him at once the story she had heard from Louise Barry relative to her summary ejectment from the house.
“Did you hear of anything so low, so ill-bred?” she exclaimed.
And the fastidious Cecil shuddered.
“And to think that this ill-natured, treacherous creature was your wife—will be your wife again! Oh, Cecil, is it necessary, do you think, this sacrifice of yourself?”
“Mother!”
That word and the stern glance of his proud blue eyes made her quail.
He looked wan, wasted, wretched. She had never seen her handsome Cecil look so ill, and it made her wrath all the more bitter against her who had caused it, but she dared say no more, for he went on, rebukingly:
“I hardly expected this from you, my mother. Say that she deserves no mercy for her treachery to poor John Keith and to me, and I will agree with you; but you must be aware—Charley says he told you—that there is another question involved now—a point of honor.”