armchair: "She is not one of thefamily, she never will be. If the young fool had not been left thatmoney by his godmother he would never have dared to do this disgracefulthing. By gad, Hugh, it is over a hundred years since there was such a_mesalliance_ in our family: please Heaven it will be a hundred yearsbefore there is another."
Nina took up the conversation at the point where her angry father leftit.
"Of course, Hugh, you can say what you like. You are our old friend;you are Guy's for that matter, and we are prepared to discuss this thingwith you quite frankly. Guy may know more than we imagine; personally,I think he knows very little, and only what she has told him."
"But surely, she must have given some particulars of herself," criedHugh, in amazement that a man like his friend Spencer, endowed with afair share of common-sense, should take a wife upon trust, as it were.To be sure, Pomfret had done the same thing, but then poor old Jack,possessor of many excellent qualities, was singularly deficient inbrain-power. He was one of those who never looked before they leaped.
Nina shrugged her shoulders. "All we know is that she was a Miss StellaKeane, the daughter of a man who gambled away his fortune at cards andon the race-course. As for relatives, she has for cousin a MrsL'Estrange, a woman of good birth, but of somewhat shady reputation, whono longer mixes with her own class. There is another cousin, a manwhose name I forget. I gather more from what has been omitted than whatis actually said, that he is not a very desirable person, and has notvisited Mrs Spencer since her marriage. That is all I have learnedduring these many months."
"Not much, certainly. And I suppose the lady dries up when you try toapproach her on the subject."
"Oh yes, her manner then is very marked," was Nina's answer. "At theslightest question she seems to become frozen, to shut herself up withinher shell. You know, Hugh, I was prepared to make the best of it allfor Guy's sake, although, of course, I quite sympathise with my father'sresentment. I have nothing to say against her manners or herappearance. If not a lady, she is most ladylike, and she never offends.But all the same, I can't take to her. To me there seems somethingabout her secretive and underhand. She appears to adore Guy, but, asyou have suggested, that may be very accomplished acting."
At this point, Miss Crichton, Lady Nina's friend, was announced. Shewas not in the inner counsels of the Southleigh family, so no furtherallusion was made to Guy's wife.
A few moments later the Spencers arrived. Guy shook his old friendMurchison warmly by the hand, they had met of late years only once ortwice during Hugh's brief leave from the Front. When they had exchangeda few mutual inquiries, the young husband turned to his wife, lookingvery slender and elegant in a filmy cream confection.
"Stella, one of my oldest friends, Hugh Murchison. We were boystogether. You must have heard me speak of him."
The young woman held out her hand with a charming smile that lighted upthe rather sad face, and made her look what so many of her admirers saidshe was, quite beautiful.
"Yes, Major Murchison, I have heard of you from my husband, and how muchyou have suffered in this cruel war. You must come and see us, andrenew your old friendship."
For a moment Hugh could not speak. The room seemed suddenly peopledwith ghosts of the past, summoned by the soft tones of that charmingvoice, so low and sweetly modulated. Then, collecting himself with agreat effort, he dropped her hand, and made some formal answer. And atthat moment the butler announced that dinner was served.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Small and informal dinner-parties can be either very lively or verydull, depending, no doubt, upon the careful selection of the guests,also on the personality of the host and hostess, who can sometimesexercise magnetic influence.
Nina was, as a rule, a very vivacious hostess. Her father wasuncertain. If he were in a congenial atmosphere, amongst his oldfriends and comrades, he would radiate geniality. But if there was oneguest who did not quite hit it off with him, between whom and himselfthere was an undefined spirit of personal antagonism, he dried up atonce, and became gloomy and morose.
To-night, as his guest of honour, sitting at his right hand, he had theniece-in-law whose entrance into the family he had so bitterly resented.During the long courses he hardly spoke a word. He was rude almost toboorishness.
But although Stella was fully conscious that she was there onsufferance, her admirable self-control enabled her to comport herselfwith unruffled demeanour. If this spiteful old man hoped that he wasannoying her with his churlish behaviour, she would not give him thesatisfaction of knowing that she was hurt. She ignored him, as hepurposely ignored her.
Miss Crichton, a cheerful, chatty young woman, whose flow of goodspirits made her welcome at many houses, sat on the other side of thehost. Finding Lord Southleigh disinclined to conversation, and guessingthe reason of it, she divided her remarks between Stella Spencer andMurchison, who sat next her.
A good-hearted girl, she felt just a little bit sorry for Stella. LordSouthleigh was not playing the game. His attitude was altogetherillogical. It was open to him to refuse to receive his unwelcome nieceat all, that would have been perfectly comprehensible. But havingadmitted her to his house, it was in the worst possible taste to soopenly proclaim his dislike and detestation.
Lady Nina talked brightly to her cousin Guy, in the random flashes ofher conversation, taking in the others, with the solitary exception ofher father, who sat there glum and silent, in one of his blackest andmost unapproachable moods. And Miss Crichton did her best, reallyworking very hard to counteract the sombre influence of the taciturnhost.
But in spite of the brave efforts of the two young women there was noexhilaration in the air, only a sort of well-defined depression, such asis felt in the atmosphere before the faint rumblings of a thunderstorm.Nobody really felt comfortable, not a single guest would feel anythingbut relief when the tedious evening drew to a close.
Guy Spencer was relieved, in a way, that his uncle had ostensibly buriedthe hatchet, but still he never felt happy in that uncle's house. Thestrong disapproval was there, if suppressed for the sake of politeness.
These little informal dinners, given at long intervals to impress uponhim that he was still a recognised member of the family, bored himextremely. They were always strictly limited as to numbers, and theother guests were generally people of no importance, on the outer fringeof that society in which the Southleighs moved.
It was difficult to know what Stella was feeling, for she had suchadmirable self-control. But if she was a sensitive woman she must havebeen cut to the heart by the behaviour of her elderly relative. And hersuffering must have been more poignant from the fact that thiscontemptuous behaviour must be apparent to every other member of theparty.
While the two young women were chattering away, battling, as it were,against the general depression, Hugh Murchison was trying to collect histhoughts.
Strange that his recollections had harked back to that tragedy atBlankfield while Nina was speaking of the young Mrs Spencer. And, ifhis memory and his eyesight were not playing him false, he was sittingopposite to the unhappy Pomfret's widow.
Six years make a considerable difference in the personal appearance ofany man or woman, and they had made a difference in her. If he had mether in the street, he would not have known her. Perhaps he would nothave known her to-night, but for that sudden accidental throwing back ofthe memory of old times. In other words, if his mind had not beenaccidentally diverted to Jack Pomfret, he would have failed to recognisethe woman whom he once knew under the name of Norah Burton.
And yet could he be sure? Let him think a little. Six years ago NorahBurton looked twenty, and Davidson the detective assured him she was atleast four years older than she looked--the appearance of youth, he hadadded, was one of her assets.
This young woman did not look a day older than twenty-six, and takingthe computation of the years, she must be at least thirty. But if shewere Norah Burton, and had retained that priceless asset of youth
, shewould still have that four years' advantage.
Then Norah Burton's hair was fair and wavy, Stella Spencer's was dark.Still it is easy for a woman to alter the colour or the appearance ofher hair. If Stella Keane had arisen, like the phoenix, from NorahBurton, she would alter herself in every detail, so far as Naturepermitted her.
Still, it is said that everybody in the world has a double. Often inhis own experience he had claimed acquaintance with somebody whom he hadmistaken for an old friend, and smilingly apologised for his error.Norah's good looks had been of a rather uncommon kind, but there must bedozens of women in the world more or less like her.
Then, as Miss Crichton's harmless chatter flowed on, he thought of otherthings. Norah had an obscure past, on which such guarded confidences asshe permitted herself to indulge in threw little or no light. It wouldappear that Stella Keane's history moved much on the same lines. Therewere