"So do I. Still, I think she is strange."
At this moment Alston came in and the conversation dropped. But both husband and wife thought many times of "Madre" that day, and not without a certain uneasiness. Was the heart of the mother with them in their enterprise?
Charmian put that question to herself. But Claude did not put it. He thought of Mrs. Mansfield's intense and fiery eyes. They saw far, saw deep. He loved them, the look in them. But he must try to forget them. He must give himself to the enthusiasm of his wife and of Alston Lake.
He sent a long telegram to Jernington, saying how difficult it was for him to leave Mustapha, and begging Jernington to come over during the summer so that they might work together in quiet. All expenses were to be paid. Next day he received a telegram from Jernington: "Very difficult is it absolutely impossible for you to come to England?"
"I'll answer that," said Charmian.
She telegraphed, "Absolutely impossible—Heath."
In the late evening a second telegram came from Jernington: "Very well suppose I must come—Jernington."
Charmian laughed as she read it over Claude's shoulder.
"The pathos of it," she said. "Poor old Jernington! He is horror-stricken. Bury St. Edmunds has been his farthest beat till now except for his year in Germany. Claudie, he loves the opera or he would never have consented to come. I felt it was a test. The opera, the child, has stood it triumphantly. I love old Jernington. And he is a first-rate critic, isn't he?"
"Of orchestration, certainly."