Gilbert rose, and with his left arm supported her to the foot of the stairs. "Oh, Dorothy," he said, "no wonder that you despise me. God only knows how I despise myself."
"It is too late to repent now, Gilbert. You must try like me to forget. You owe it to your wife, as much as to me."
She passed her arm round Mrs. Rushmere's waist, and left Gilbert at the foot of the stairs. He put the cuff of his empty sleeve to his eyes. Was it to wipe away a tear?
His wife looked daggers at him, when he returned to the table. His father proposed a walk round the farm after dinner, an invitation that Gilbert eagerly accepted, and the mother and daughter were left alone together.
"We shall have a nice time of it here," said Mrs Gilbert. "Let us go out, mother, and take a look round the premises. One might as well be in a prison as confined to this dark, dingy room."
"I can see no garden attached to the place," said Mrs. Rowly, looking out of the deep bay window which only opened upon the stone-paved court. "That girl who helped at dinner could tell us all about it."
"Don't call her, mamma, I have a perfect horror of that woman. I am certain that Gilbert and she have been very intimate. He never took his eyes off her during dinner."
"You need not be jealous of her, Sophy; I am certain that she cares nothing for him. You are foolish to trouble your head with any love affairs he had previous to his marriage."
"But I am sure he cares for her, and I don't mean to play second fiddle in his father's house to any one but Mrs. Rushmere. If this girl remains in the house I must quit it."