“The cases are not precisely similar, are they? Instead of playing a double game you were absolutely honest; much more honest than is usual on such occasions. And he was a wise man. I think I should have liked that man! Compare him with Victor Druce sometimes, Ruth; it may help you to be brave... Now I am going back to the garden to act my part. We will meet and talk again, but we can’t stay away any longer just now without attracting attention... Just tell me one thing before I go—Can you forgive me for shattering your dream?” She held out her hand, and Ruth took it in both hers.
“I have nothing to forgive. It is only wakening a little sooner; that’s all!” she said tremulously.
Margot bent down lightly, and touched her forehead with her lips, then turned swiftly away, and Ruth was left alone. Poor, disenchanted Ruth, wideawake at last, in the midst of the deserted cabbage-patch!
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Jack Melland’s Secret.
When Mr Farrell’s guests assembled for dinner, on their return from the garden-party, it was at once evident that the old gentleman was in one of his difficult moods. From the beginning he had affected to disapprove of Mrs Thornton’s extravagance in attempting to entertain on so large a scale, while sedulously keeping himself informed as to every detail of the preparations. The anonymous present of fruit had furnished him with a subject for much satirical comment, as had also the girls’ endeavours to beautify the house and grounds.
Now he found a fresh grievance in the fact that dinner was delayed a few minutes past its usual hour, and that the young people appeared depressed, rather than elated by their experiences. Ruth’s plea of a headache was justified by her wan looks; Jack was moody, and even Victor was for once silent and distrait. It was left to Mollie to stem the tide, and she raised herself nobly to the effort, albeit her own heart was none too light.
“It went off beautifully, Uncle Bernard! Shall I tell you all about it from the beginning?” she cried, smiling at his grim visage across the dinner-table; and when he declared his lack of interest in the whole concern, she smiled again, and refused to be convinced. “Oh, but you must hear, because in a kind of way it was your party, as you are the patron, and give them all that they have... There were such crowds of people, and they looked so gay. Old Lady Everett wore a magenta satin, quite the most awful garment I ever beheld, and she got hot, poor dear, and it matched her face. And such an awkward thing happened; she brought a little basket with a few under-sized grapes, about a pound, perhaps, and presented them to Mrs Thornton with such an air of munificence, and then turned round and saw the table spread with all that exquisite fruit! She was quite angry even when Mrs Thornton explained that it also was a gift.”