Lady Tranmore recoiled. For once the good-humor of that handsome face—pale as the face was—seemed to her an offence—nay, a disgrace. That what had happened had been no mere contretemps, no mere accident of trains and coaches, was plain enough from Kitty's eyes—from all that William did not say, no less than from what he said. And still this levity!—this inconceivable levity! Was it true, as she knew was said, that William had no high sense of honor, that he failed in delicacy and dignity?
In reality, it was the same cry as the Dean's—upon another and smaller occasion. But in this case it was unspoken. Lady Tranmore dropped into a chair, one hand abandoned to her son, the other hiding her face. He talked fast and tenderly, asking her help—neither of them quite knew for what—her advice as to the move to Haggart—and so forth. Lady Tranmore said little. But it was a bitter silence; and if Ashe himself failed in indignation, his mother's protesting heart supplied it amply.
PART III
DEVELOPMENT
"Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille,
Sich ein Character in dem Strom, der Welt."
XIV
"What does Lady Kitty do with herself here?" said Darrell, looking round him. He had just arrived from town on a visit to the Ashes, to find the Haggart house and garden completely deserted, save for Mrs. Alcot, who was lounging in solitude, with a cigarette and a novel, on the wide lawn which surrounded the house on three sides.
As he spoke he lifted a chair and placed it beside her, under one of the cedars which made deep shade upon the grass.