"Why on Friday, Lady Tregony?"
"Why, because we shall have the house full of people on Friday, to be sure. I wouldn't that there should be a hitch for the world."
Madeline walked upstairs to her room, feeling very perturbed, and not a little annoyed. It seemed now as if everybody was beginning to show his or her hand. Now that the game was practically won there was not quite so much need for caution or finesse. Indeed, to take the engagement for granted might be a good way of settling the matter once and for all.
"But it is not settled yet," she said to herself, a little bit indignantly; "and what is more I will not have my affairs settled for me by anybody."
It had been her intention to dress herself with the greatest care that evening, to don the smartest and most becoming frock she possessed. But she concluded now she would do nothing of the kind.
"I am not going to lay myself out to make a conquest as though I were a husband hunter," she said to herself, with heightened colour; "and what is more I am not going to let anybody take things for granted," and she dropped into a basket chair before the fire.
It was the first time Lady Tregony had so openly shown her hand, and it made Madeline think more furiously than ever.
Her maid came a little later and lighted the lamp and drew the blinds, then quietly withdrew. Madeline sat staring into the fire, watching the faces come and go, and conjuring up all kinds of visions. She heard the brougham drive away; heard the Baronet's voice for a moment or two, then all grew still again. In another hour he would be back again, accompanied by his son. She wanted to get up and walk about the room, but she held herself in check with a firm hand, and sat resolutely still. She did not attempt to hide from herself the fact that she was painfully excited. Her heart was beating at twice its normal rate. She was longing to see Gervase, and yet she dreaded the moment when she would again look into his eyes.
She did her best to put Rufus Sterne out of her mind. She had a vague kind of feeling that she was disloyal to her girlish ideals. The hour, to which all the other hours of her life had steadily and consistently moved, was on the point of striking. She ought to be supremely happy. One face only should fill all her dreams. She had grown to believe that Gervase Tregony had been ordained for her and she for him—until the last few months not a doubt had crossed her mind on this point, and now——
She got up and began to walk about the room. She could sit still no longer. The very air had become oppressive. She felt as though a thunderstorm was brooding over the place.