said Ella. "I often am hasty myself--I never dislike anyone for being a little cross," she went on, smiling. "I'm very glad youliked me to be there. Papa was very kind about it," she added, unableto repress a little hit at her sister, "he agreed to my going _at once_when my godmother proposed it."
Madelene's face grew cold again.
"Why could you not stop at the right place, you foolish child?" thoughtErmine. But she kept her thoughts to herself--a glance at Madelene hadtold her that it was best so.
Outwardly, however, things seemed most prosperously smooth.
"Your frock looked lovely, Ella," said Ermine. "Melanie will be quitejealous of Jones."
"And it is really not spoilt at all," said Ella, eagerly. "But oh,Madelene, that reminds me--I had such a misfortune."
Miss St Quentin looked up anxiously. To her nature any appeal forsympathy always brought healing on its wings.
"What?" she said, expecting to hear of some trifling accident. Her faceexpressed real concern when she heard the particulars of the lost shoe.
"We must certainly try to get it back," she said. "It is pretty sure tohave been picked up. Only if any dishonest servant has got hold of it,the buckle would be a temptation; an ignorant person would so easilymistake the paste for diamonds--I will write to Mrs Belvoir to-morrow,Ella--it is too late to-night--and send over a man expressly."
"Thank you," said Ella. "But," she went on, "will she understand? Didshe know I was your sister, as I didn't come with you?"
"Of course," said Madelene haughtily. "You don't suppose Ermine and Iwould have given any cause for gossip. We took care to speak quitenaturally the next morning about Aunt Anna having brought you over for alittle--it was all Louis Belvoir, who Mistook your name at the first."
"Oh yes, I see," said Ella. She seemed on the point of saying more, buther courage failed her.
"I wonder if they know who the man was that I danced that last waltzwith," she said to herself.
Ermine seemed to play into her hands.
"How did you like young Belvoir, by the by, Ella?" she inquired. "Hedances well, doesn't he? What other men did you dance with?"
But Ella was not going to be trotted out, especially not beforeMadelene, whose eyes, she fancied, and perhaps not without reason, werefixed on her scrutinisingly.
"There were several," she replied; "I didn't hear all their namesdistinctly. Yes, I thought Mr Belvoir danced well, but there were oneor two others who danced quite as well."
"Oh, indeed," said Ermine. "No one in particular, then?"
"Major Frost was very amusing," said Ella.
Madelene, who had finished her tea, put down her cup and turned to thedoor.
"We had better go up stairs and take our things off, Ermine," she said.
"I am afraid Ella is the reverse of ingenuous," she said when they hadleft the library. "We _know_ she danced more with Philip than any one.She is a regular woman of the world in the way she can keep back whatshe does not choose to tell--it would be only natural for her to ask uswho he was, if she really did not know."
"Oh, Maddie, I don't think you are fair about her," said Ermine. "Andtalking of not being ingenuous--she might accuse us of it when she comesto know him. She will know we must have seen her dancing with him, ifshe takes the trouble to think it over, and our not mentioning his beingthere may strike her."
"Well, it isn't my doing. I hate mystifications," said Madelene."However as Aunt Anna is mixed up in it I suppose it will be all right.But--no, Ermine, I'm afraid Ella is not the sort of wife we should wishfor Philip. And I'm afraid of letting myself wish it, lest I shouldreally be influenced by selfish motives, for no doubt it might makethings easier."
"You're enough to provoke a saint," said Ermine. "However I don'tsuppose either you or I will have much power to `make or mar' in thematter. If it is to be, it will be--so far we haven't meddled; _we_didn't originate their meeting as they did."
"People always take refuge in that sort of fatalism when they want tothrow off responsibility," said Madelene. "I don't believe in fatalityabout marriages any more than about anything else. But _I_ shall notinterfere, I am far too uncertain of its being a good thing for Philip."
"Maddie has had an Indian letter, and she has got a fit of extraconscientiousness in consequence," thought Ermine. "If I were Bernard,I don't think I'd stand it."
And yet as she looked at her sister, and saw the gentle sadness in hereyes, and noted the increasing signs of endurance and uncomplainingpatience in the delicate features, a sort of rush of tenderness cameover her. No one better deserved to be happy than her own sweetMadelene, she said to herself.
The evening passed peacefully. Colonel St Quentin was pleased to havehis daughters with him again, and pleased too with himself for feelingso much more cordial and affectionate than heretofore towards hisyoungest child. And Madelene was pleased too to see him so, forjealousy formed no part of her nature, though her exaggeratedconscientiousness and self-questioning sometimes took the appearance ofsuspiciousness of others. Ella's quick eyes detected her elder sister'ssatisfaction at her father's kindlier tone, and she felt puzzled by it.
"She does seem as if she wanted papa and me to get on better together,after all," she thought, and the idea softened her own manner in turn.Besides this, she was, though she would on no account have confessed it,both tired and sleepy; the unusual excitement, more than actual fatiguehad told upon her, and she was not sorry when Ermine, openlyacknowledging that she was quite ready to go to bed, proposed that theyshould all say good-night.
"It's quite disgraceful to be so done up after such a very mild amountof dissipation," she said laughingly. "Philip would make great fun ofus. He is coming over to-morrow, Maddie, you know."
"Yes, papa says Aunt Anna left a message from him to tell us so," saidMadelene thoughtlessly.
Ella pricked up her ears at this.
"How could--" she began, but something in the expression of her eldersister's face made her stop short.
"Ah," she reflected, "Madelene said that by mistake. They didn't wantme to know that precious cousin of _theirs_ was coming. I shall hatehim for being their cousin and not mine--only he is dear godmother'sgrandson, and I should like him for that. Godmother must have had aletter from him while I was there, I suppose. She might have told me ofit."
And a feeling of resentment to Lady Cheynes too, mingled with herindignation against her sisters. Her "good-night" was correspondinglycold, but they did not seem to notice it.
"I will write a note to Mrs Belvoir to-night, Ella," said Madelene in alow voice, as they were leaving the room, "to have it ready forto-morrow morning, so that one of the grooms can take it over quiteearly and wait for an answer."
"Thank you," said Ella, and for the moment she felt really obliged. Thelost slipper was weighing a good deal on her mind, and she began tothink that after all she would feel rather foolish if obliged to confessto her godmother how she had lost it.
"She will certainly say I should have found it out before I got into thecarriage, but I quite thought it was among the rugs--and Jones lookedherself for me, this morning. I think it must have slipped off just asI stepped in and rolled out before they shut the door."
And her dreams were haunted by the slipper. She thought Madelene camedown to breakfast next morning with it tied on to her head as anornament, and that it suddenly skipped on to the floor all of itself,and became a wonderful white satin chariot which careered round the roomdrawn by six cats, while on the box sat her partner in her last waltz atthe Manor, shouting at the top of his voice that he was going to take anote to Mrs Belvoir first thing in the morning, and to wait for ananswer. And these words "wait for an answer," seemed to minglethemselves fantastically with all the consciousness of her sleep. Orperhaps it seemed so to her, for they were the first that fell on herears as she began to awake next morning. The door was opening and someone just entering was speaking to another person outside.
"Yes," said the voice--it
was old Hester's--"wait for an answer--be sureto tell him."
"What are you talking about?" asked Ella. "What is it about waiting foran answer?"
"It's the message for the groom, who's going to the Manor, Miss Ella,"Hester replied. "Miss St Quentin gave me the note last night, and Iwas telling Stevens. She's so sorry for you to be uneasy about theshoe--`taking off the pleasure of her first little treat, poor child,'was her words to me, Miss Ella."
"It's very kind of