"Why, dear me, my dear, this is only a whim. I am quite sure Paul agrees with me."
"I hate the subject also," said Paul angrily; and poor Lady Lyons, utterly unconscious of how she had managed to make things unpleasant, saw she had done so and began to apologise.
But Paul's expression, the disgust she saw written in his face, was too much for Grace, worn out as she was with the anxiety this very subject had given her, and she rose, tried to move to the door, and fell into her husband's arms in a faint—out of which they found it difficult to rouse her.
Paul was sorry for her and very anxious. He had seen her suffer, but he had never known her faint like this before.
For the moment, and till she recovered, everything was forgotten; but when she came round again Grace saw that she had fallen in her husband's eyes, and cried bitter tears when he turned away.
Yes, she had fallen. How often occasions had arisen when he might have been told the truth! How utterly she had kept him in the dark! He was resentful, and it was not in him to see any circumstances in extenuation. If she thought it right to benefit by this man's money, why not have said so frankly? In any conversation about Margaret, when he had spoken his mind, what was there to prevent her saying what the case was?
Mingled with indignation at the way he had been treated was also the bitter fact that they would be so much poorer than he had imagined, because, of course, the money should go back. It was the price of Margaret's happiness, and he would have none of it.
Lady Lyons, with the best intentions, drove him nearly wild that evening.
It is wonderful what powers of irritation very well-meaning people possess when they are endowed with blunt perceptions and limited intelligence.
Some days passed on. There was constant constraint between the two who, up till now, had been so happy. Then there came the day before they sailed.