Madame De Vigne stepped out into the veranda and waved her handkerchief as the carriage drove off.
‘He will marry her whether Sir William gives his consent or not,’ she mused. ‘He is in youth’s glad spring-tide, when the world is full of sunshine, and the dragons that beset the ways of life seem put there only to be fought and overcome. Well—let me but see my darling’s happiness assured, and I think that I can bear without murmuring whatever Fate may have in store for myself.’ She stepped back into the room, and as she did so, Nanette opened the door once more and announced—‘Colonel Woodruffe.’
A slight tremor shook Madame De Vigne from head to foot. She drew a long breath, and advanced a step or two to meet the colonel as he entered the room.
‘I told you that I should come,’ said Colonel Woodruffe, with a rich glow on his face as he went forward and held out his hand.
‘And you are here,’ answered Madame De Vigne, who had suddenly turned very pale.
‘Did you not expect me?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, as for a moment she looked him full in the eyes.
She sat down on an ottoman, and the colonel drew up a chair a little distance away. He was a tall, well-built, soldier-like man, some thirty-eight or forty years old.
‘You know the purpose that has brought me?’ he asked.
‘I have not forgotten.’