With these words of warning he opened the door. It was a pretty room enough—meant to be luxurious—in a somewhat tawdry style of decoration, yet tolerable, in so far that its rose-coloured hangings and heavy fringes were fresh at least, and in good order. Amanda was in bed, with a blue dressing-gown over her shoulders, and her elaborately-dressed hair adorned with a small lace cap. Nothing could be gayer than the composition of colour, her own rose-cheeks and golden hair, the bright blue garment in which she was clothed, and the blue ribbon in her little cap, all relieved against the rose-coloured hangings. A perfect Watteau, some one had told her, this composition made, and, though she did not know what a Watteau was, she felt it must be something fine, and kept up the successful combination. Her cheeks were not pale, but flushed with anger, impatience, and excitement. She burst forth almost before Frederick had come into the room.
“This is how you visit your wife, is it, Mr. Frederick Eastwood?—Three mortal hours have I been left alone without a creature to speak to but aunty. How dare you face me after that? how dare you? I have a hundred minds never to speak to you again——”
“That would be to punish yourself more than me, my dear,” said Frederick, with the conventional speech of the injured husband.
She looked at his careless smile, and her fury increased.
“I should like to throw something at you,” she cried. “You cold, wicked, careless, unprincipled wretch! Was it for this you married me, and pretended to be fond of me? Was it for this you took me from my father, who was always so kind? Was it for this——”
“Of course it was for all that,” said Frederick, advancing to the bedside. “We have gone through the list before. Amanda, try to keep your temper; it will be the best thing for you. Here is Innocent, whom I found in the Minster, and who has come to pay you a visit. Miss Vane is coming on Monday to fetch her; and if you play your cards well——”
Amanda interrupted him by a shrill laugh.
“Oh, so here is Innocent! and the old nun is coming?—a great deal I care! This is how you try to hoodwink me. Innocent, come here! How long has he been walking about with you, talking, and holding your hand, and turning your head, you little fool? You think he cares? He cares as much for you as he does for me; he cares for no one but himself. Oh, go away, or I shall throw something at you! Go away, or——”
She had put out her hand to clutch at a glass which stood by her on a little table.
“Go! Go!” cried some one from behind the curtain.