"I, too," said the dark lady; "but to yield outwardly is not to give up my opinions, nor is it easy or agreeable to do so. We will speak of it another time, Madame Swanwick." But they never did, and so this interview ended with no very good result, except to make both women feel that further talk would be of no use, and that the matter was settled.
As the two mothers rose, Miss Gainor entered, large, smiling, fresh from Christ Church. Quick to observe, she saw that something unusual had occurred, and hesitated between curiosity and the reserve which good manners exacted.
"Good morning," she said. "I heard that Mr. Schmidt had come back, and so I came at once from church to get all the news from Europe for the Penns, where I go to dine."
"Europe is unimportant," cried Margaret, disregarding a warning look from her mother. "I am engaged to be married to Monsieur de Courval—and—everybody—is pleased. Dear Aunt Gainor, I like it myself."
"I at least am to be excepted," said the vicomtesse, "as Mademoiselle knows. I beg at present to be saved further discussion. May I be excused—"
"It seems, Madame," returned Miss Wynne, smiling, "to have got past the need for discussion. I congratulate you with all my heart."
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the vicomtesse, forgetful of her Huguenot training, and swept by Miss Gainor's most formal courtesy and was gone.
"Dear child," cried Mistress Wynne, as she caught Margaret in her arms, "I am glad as never before. The vicomte has gone back to the service and—you are to marry—oh, the man of my choice. The poor vicomtesse, alas! Where is the vicomte?"
"He is out just now. We did mean to tell thee this evening."
"Ah! I am glad it came earlier, this good news. May I tell them at the governor's?"