come into Archies face, though he only murmuredsome half-inaudible words of agreement.
"At least," he thought unselfishly, "this looks like an end of thathateful life for her, and once clear of that, who knows whatopportunities might turn up? She would surely look on thingsdifferently."
"And how is Hebe?" asked Sir Adam, still in a low voice.
"Better, really better," replied Archie. "I saw her a few minutes ago,and she is hoping to see you after dinner. They will have to be awfullycareful of her for some time; but still, Norman is ever so muchhappier."
"Poor dear child!" said Sir Adam, and then he found himself told off toconduct his hostess to the dining-room.
He would have preferred another companion, for his feelings towards LadyMarth were not of the most cordial. They had some common ground,however, in the good hopes, now sanctioned, of Lady Hebe's recovery; andin the interest of discussing these, the first part of the dinner passedmore to Sir Adam's satisfaction than he had anticipated.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
AT EAST MODDERSHAM.
"It was all so touching," said Lady Marth. "I cannot tell you howpatient Hebe was, thinking of every one more than of herself. I don'tknow any one else who would have behaved so beautifully through such atrial."
And her somewhat hard though handsome features softened as she spoke,and her dark eyes looked almost as if there were tears in them.
Sir Adam, on his side, felt that he had perhaps been judging her toosharply.
"Of course," he thought to himself, "but for their being friends of myown, I would never have known or cared whether she was kind to theDerwents or not. And I suppose one should try not to be personal;still--"
At that moment a slight pause in the conversation at the other end ofthe table allowed Lady Harriot's rather harsh, unmodulated voice to beheard very distinctly. She was speaking to a lady seated opposite toher, a visitor at East Moddersham, and not a resident in theneighbourhood.
"Yes," she said, "you positively must get Lady Marth to drive you intoBlissmore to see their things. I have been getting them all the customI could, and I do think, now they have made a good start, they may geton well, poor things."
"I'll make a point of giving them an order," the lady repliedgood-naturedly. "One does feel so sorry for them."
Sir Adam was an old man, and a man of the world; but his face reddenedperceptibly.
"Excuse me, Lady Harriot," he said very clearly--and somehow every onestopped speaking to listen--"If you are alluding to Mrs Derwent and herdaughters, I must not leave any misapprehension about them. There willsoon be no need for any one to patronise them, however kind the motive.Their being in their present position has been the result of a completemisapprehension, for which, I must confess, I am myself to blame."
Lady Harriot stared.
"My dear Sir Adam," she said, "why didn't you tell me so before?"
But Sir Adam had already turned to Lady Marth, and did not seem to hearthe question. Lady Harriot nodded across the table confidentially.
"Never mind," she said in a low voice. "Be sure you go to see theirthings, all the same."
Lady Marth had looked up in astonishment at Sir Adam's speech.
"Are you talking of some people who took a house on Pinnerton Green andhave left it again already?" she said. "I had no idea they were friendsof _yours_! I remember Hebe rather took up the daughters in connectionwith that guild of hers that she's so enthusiastic about."
Sir Adam's face was grave and his tone very cold as he replied.
"You cannot possibly have _met_ them," he said, "or your discriminationwould have shown you that, whether friends of mine or not, they are verydifferent from what you have evidently imagined them."
"Why, you seem quite vexed with me," said Lady Marth, trying to carry itoff lightly. "How can I be expected to know all about the good peopleon the Green, or to have guessed by instinct that the Derwents hadanything to do with you?"
"Lady Hebe found out enough to make her show them all the kindness inher power," he replied. "Lady Harriot called on them, poor dear soul,meaning to do her best, and Mrs Harrowby surely mentioned them to you?"
"Perhaps she did," replied Lady Marth carelessly; "but the vicar's wife,you know, Sir Adam, doesn't count in that way. It's her role, or shethinks it is, to ignore all class distinctions."
"In this case there were none to ignore," said Sir Adam, still morefrigidly.
"I don't say there were," she replied. "Of course not with friends ofyours. But how was I to know that? Now, you're not to be vexed withme, for you've really no cause to be." But as she said this, a certainafternoon in the vicarage drawing-room recurred to her memory--abeautiful, fair-haired girl, standing near her, a faint flush rising toher face as she--Lady Marth--drew herself back with words, to say theleast, neither courteous nor amiable. Her tone to Sir Adam softenedstill more. "Of course," she continued, "I shall be more than delightedto pay any attention in my power to Mrs Derwent--that is to say, if youwish it."
"Thank you," he answered, gratified, in spite of himself, by her evidentsincerity. "I will tell you more about them some other time. I may seeHebe after dinner, may I not?" he went on. "Archie said something abouther wishing it."
"Oh yes," replied Lady Marth. "She is counting upon it, I know. If youwill follow us into the drawing-room a little before the other men, Iwill take you to her. She is really quite well in herself, but wedaren't risk any glare of light for her as yet. Isn't it nice to seepoor Norman looking so much happier?"
"Yes; of the two, I think he does more credit to their travels thanyoung Dunstan," Sir Adam replied thoughtlessly.
He regretted the remark as soon as he had made it, but a glance at LadyMarth's face reassured him. She was in utter unconsciousness thatArchie Dunstan and Blanche Derwent had ever met.
"Not that I have much ground for the idea, though," he said to himself."I wonder if Hebe can possibly enlighten me."
They were approaching the end of dinner, and the rest of theconversation between himself and his hostess was on general subjects.But as she followed her guests to the drawing-room, she touched himgently on the arm.
"I shall expect you in a few minutes," she said; and a quarter of anhour or so later, Sir Adam found himself following her up the firstflight of the broad oak staircase, along a passage, the rooms of which,since her first coming there as a little child, had always beenappropriated to Sir Conway's ward.
"Poor dear child," thought the old man to himself. "Things don't seemso unequal, after all, in life. Stasy's children have had more thanHebe, heiress though she is. She has never known what `home' really isas they have done?"
But it was a very happy Hebe who rose from a low seat near the fireplacein her pretty boudoir, to greet him as he followed Lady Marth into theroom.
"Now, I shall leave you alone," she said. "I'm sure you've heaps to sayto each other."
They had more to talk of even than the lady of the house suspected. Forlong after Hebe had replied to all her old friend's inquiries aboutherself--the result of the operation, and the still necessaryprecautions to be observed--and had told him the happy hopes for thefuture she now dared to entertain, they still went on talking earnestlyand eagerly.
"I think our marriage will be early in the spring," Hebe had said, andthe allusion seemed to send Sir Adam's thoughts in a further direction.
"Hebe," he said, "I want to speak to you about my friends the Derwents,whom I am delighted to find you've got to know on your own account."
The girl's face lighted up with the keenest interest. "I too want totalk about them to you," she said. "I have just been wondering if I mayspeak to you _quite_ openly."
"Certainly you may do so--it is just what I have been hoping for,"replied Sir Adam, and the hands of the pretty clock on Hebe'smantelpiece had very nearly made their accustomed journey of a full hourbefore it suddenly struck Sir Adam that he was scarcely behaving withcourtesy to his hosts in spending so much of the evening a
way from therest of the party.
Just then Norman Milward put his head in at the door.
"I'm most sorry to interrupt you," he said. "But Lady Marth thinks thatperhaps--"
"Of course," said Sir Adam, rising as he spoke; "I had no business tostay so long.--Then you'll expect us to-morrow afternoon, my dear child?I will explain it to Lady Marth.--You'll stay up here, I suppose,Milward?"
"Yes," the young man replied; "I've scarcely seen her yet. It seems