He took it, glanced unwillingly at her wistful, agitated face, pressed the hand, and let it go.
"Isn't it sad," said his old friend, unable to help herself, "to see her battling like this with life—with thought—all alone? Isn't it sad, Aldous?"
"Yes," he said. Then, after a pause, "Why doesn't she go home? My patience gives out when I think of Mrs. Boyce."
"Oh! it isn't Mrs. Boyce's fault," said Lady Winterbourne, hopelessly.
"And I don't know why one should be sorry for her particularly—why one
should want her to change her life again. She does it splendidly. Only
I never, never feel that she is a bit happy in it."
It was Hallin's cry over again.
He said nothing for a moment; then he forced a smile.
"Well! neither you nor I can help it, can we?" he said. The grey eyes looked at her steadily—bitterly. Lady Winterbourne, with the sensation of one who, looking for softness, has lit on granite, changed the subject.
Meanwhile, Marcella upstairs was walking restlessly up and down. She could hardly keep herself from rushing off—back to Brown's Buildings at once. He in the room while she was saying those things! Lady Selina's words burnt in her ears. Her morbid, irritable sense was all one vibration of pride and revolt. Apology—appeal—under the neatest comedy guise! Of course!—now that Lord-Maxwell was dying, and the ill-used suitor was so much the nearer to his earldom. A foolish girl had repented her of her folly—was anxious to make those concerned understand—what more simple?
Her nerves were strained and out of gear. Tears came in a proud, passionate gush; and she must needs allow herself the relief of them.
* * * * *