"I owe you an apology, Mr. O'Brien, for my rudeness to you when last we met."
"Rudeness! Mrs. Davenport!--your rudeness to me! I am shocked to hear you say such a thing. I am shocked to think you should have for a moment rested under so unpleasant an idea. Believe me, you were never anything but most polite and considerate to me."
Madge admired this speech of Jerry's, for it seemed to her very generous. She did not greatly admire Mrs. Davenport. She thought her too grand and cold and reserved. But she did not go as far as Edith, who positively disliked their visitor.
"I am quite clear as to my bad conduct," insisted Mrs. Davenport, with her wan smile. "When I met you in this house the day after the--the dreadful event, I did not speak to you, although I recognised you instantly."
"But, Mrs. Davenport, you don't for a moment imagine I did not realise how terribly you were tried just then?"
"It is very good of you to make such liberal allowances for my conduct, but I fear I did not deserve your generosity; and I am more than afraid, if you knew exactly how I felt, you would not be able to forgive me so readily. I suppose it was owing to the state of excitement I was in at the time that the moment I set eyes on you, Mr. O'Brien, I looked upon you as an enemy."
"An enemy--an enemy!" cried Jerry, in surprise and confusion. "What could have put such a notion into your mind?"
"I am sure I don't know," she answered, shaking her head slowly. "I experienced nothing but the greatest consideration from you and every one else here. I have since learned that I owe my introduction to Mr. Pringle to you--to you and Mr. Paulton," she added, looking gratefully at the young man.
Alfred coloured with delight and embarrassment. To see and hear her was delight enough to outweigh all the troubles he had yet known; but to feel that her voice and eyes were thanking and praising him was intoxicating.
She was dressed in complete widow's weeds. Her face was pale, placid, unwrinkled. Her dark eyebrows, dark eyes and lashes, and full red mouth afforded the only breaks in colour. All the rest was pale, delicate olive. The head had still the grand imperial carriage, the eye the same unflinching, haughty fearlessness. The full, red lips met closely, readily, at the clear, curved line, and parted easily, readily. Only hints of the superlative graces of the figure came through her heavy mantle. The hands lay clasped in suppliant ease in the lap. Now that she was free from commanding excitement, her voice drew attention to itself. The face and head, and the carriage and pose of the head, were full of authority and command; the figure full of feminine yielding gentleness. Now that the voice was unburdened by heavy emotions, it partook at one time of the nature of the head; at another of the nature of the figure. In giving thanks to Mrs. Paulton, it was slow, stately, gravely harmonious; in confessing her want of generosity to Jerry, it was low, soft, full, intensely sympathetic.