“Well, he is rather late,” said Edith.
“He is talking with his sister,” suggested Lady Walton. “I must congratulate you, my dear, in having chosen a husband who has complete ignorance of women. It is a very valuable attribute nowadays, when women have no restraint and men no manners. Horace is doubtless explaining to Miss Lestrange what an excellent arrangement his marriage will be for everybody concerned; and Miss Lestrange is turning his attention to awkward details. I hope you are prepared for complications, Edith; the maternal instinct of maiden aunts is a very fierce thing to combat. Do you realize that she may refuse to let the boy go?”
The girl moved restlessly.
“Oh, she can’t!” she murmured. “After all, Horace is very strong; he’s not a weak man, auntie.”
“There is nothing so vulnerable as some kinds of strength,” said Lady Walton, with a sigh, “or so invulnerable as some kinds of weakness. What is tyranny but weakness playing on generosity, and how long do you suppose it can last? It can last as long as the generosity.”
Edith shivered a little.
“But he’ll think of me,” she said. “He knows how I want his child.”
“He’ll think of you,” said her aunt very slowly; “yes, he’ll think of you, Edith; but thought doesn’t compel--there is only one compulsion.”
It was surgery for the sake of healing, but the knife struck deep.
Lady Walton sat quite still; she did not attempt to touch or soothe the girl; she did not even look at her. After a while she said reflectively: