"It was country-house gossip, and now you have made studio gossip of it," said Hemming, tartly.
"I am very sorry," said Tarmont, honestly.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BACHELOR UNCLE TO THE RESCUE
The years since Hemming's departure had brought little of joy to Molly Travers. At first anger at herself had occupied her mind. Then had come a short-lived anger toward Hemming for not writing or returning. Now she looked at life with a calm heartlessness. When she learned the true story of Penthouse a white fury entered into her, and she knew that there was not a person in the world whom she would now trust,—save Hemming, the man who despised her. Her mother tried to comfort her; tried to reason with her; tried to soothe her with platitudes and eligible suitors. For her pains, the poor woman was snubbed. So were the suitors—at first. But, as the seasons wore around, with no word of love or forgiveness from the man whose love she had tramped on, Miss Travers decided to take her revenge on the world. She took it daintily, and the world hardly knew what she was about. First, and always, there was Anderson. At first, love for the girl, and loyalty for his friend, struggled hard within him. Love won against loyalty. Then he found that she did not care. He was of a hopeful disposition, and continued to make a fool of himself even to the last, as you shall see. There were others,—a subaltern, a lawyer, the son of a colonial premier, and a baronet. It was always so cleverly done that not one of them could lay the blame on her. Tarmont, the young artist, was the first to understand. He saved himself just in time.
Mrs. Travers was in despair, especially when the baronet rode away. At last it occurred to her that still the memory of Hemming, the adventurer, stood between her daughter and a comfortable settlement in life. Why any one should prefer the memory of a poor man to the reality of a rich one, she really could not see. She was afraid to ask Molly for a solution of the problem (having learned something by experience), so she wrote a note to her brother. Mr. Pollin came promptly, and gave ear to the narration of her troubles with polite concern. When she had made a piteous end of it, he told her that she was fretting herself quite unnecessarily.
"I'll speak to Molly," he said, in a reassuring voice.
"But she does not like being spoken to," complained Mrs. Travers.
"Oh, she is really a sensible girl, and I am not afraid of her," said Mr. Pollin.
"Had I better call her now?" suggested the lady.