Adelaide, in a picturesque dress and her most becoming mood, welcomed
him with careful cordiality as a prodigal whose husks, clinging about
his coat, were to be handled tenderly as if they were pearls. She saw
that something was gravely wrong, and she grasped the line of connection
if she did not understand the issue; but, mindful of the doctrine of
letting well alone--also of that of catching a heart at the rebound--she
made no allusion in the beginning, but let her curiosity gnaw her like
the Spartan boy's fox without making a sign. At last, however, her
curiosity became impatience, and her impatience conquered her reserve.
She was clever in her generation and fairly self-controlled, but she was
only a woman, after all.
"And when did you see that eccentric little lady, Miss Leam?" she asked
with a smile--not a bitter smile, merely one of careless amusement, as
if Leam was acknowledged to be a comical subject of conversation and one
naturally provoking a smile.
"Dear Adelaide," said Edgar, not looking at her, but speaking with
unusual earnestness, "do not speak ill of Leam Dundas--neither to me nor
to any one else. I ask it as a favor."
Adelaide turned pale. "Tell me only one thing, Edgar: are you going to
marry her?" she asked, her manner as earnest as his own, but with a
different meaning.
"No. Marry her? Good God, no!" was his vehement reply. Then more
tenderly: "But for all that do not speak ill of her.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202