“Yes. It will be delightful. Just you and I and the baby.”
Suddenly she began to laugh very quietly, and the nurse came hurrying up.
“You must not excite her ladyship. I think you had better go,” she said severely to Gaunt.
“No, it’s all right, nurse. I will be good,” Lady Mildred cried. “But I was thinking of my dream. Of you as an angel, John. It was too funny for words. You don’t seem to see the joke?”
John’s face had grown whiter for he was once more living through the terrible hours of yesterday. This strange dream of his wife’s went a long way to confirm him in the belief that he owed her life to God’s intervention. Therefore he would fulfill his vow completely and honestly and at any cost to himself.
But would his wife help him in his endeavor? It was too absurd for consideration, for if he were to tell her of his determination she would laugh the idea to scorn. Lady Mildred’s guiding motive in life was her own enjoyment, and nothing else.
True, she did go to church, but her visits were very rare, and then only for the sake of appearances. No, Gaunt could expect no sympathy from that quarter—in fact he would probably meet with opposition.
It was evident that his future actions would be likely to excite comment among both his friends and enemies. With the latter it would be easy to deal, but friends have an unfortunate knack of claiming explanations as a right.
“You are very serious, John,” said Lady Mildred, and Gaunt was recalled to the present.
It was sufficient for the moment to know that his wife regarded him very differently.