Love's Shadow Part 40

'Why, I have, Anne, I advertised all by myself. Several came to see me yesterday.'

'Well, what did you do about it?'

'Nothing particular. Oh yes; I did. I wrote down the address of one or two. Emma Sinfield, Maude Frick, Annie Crutcher, and Mary Garstin. Which shall I have, Anne--which name do you like best?'

'Emma Sinfield, I think, or if she doesn't do, I rather fancy Garstin.

Where does Emma live?'

'In the Cromwell Road. We ought to go and ask for her character today.'

'You go, then, and I'll go with you. You won't know what to ask. I'll do it for you.'

'All right. We may as well drive there as anywhere.'

Anne declared the character quite satisfactory, for Emma Sinfield's late employer, although displaying the most acute conscientiousness, could find no fault with her except a vaulting ambition and wild desire to better herself, which is not unknown in other walks of life, and they were driving away in the motor when they came face to face with Cecil and Eugenia in a hansom. He was talking with so much animation that he did not see them. She was looking straight before her.

Hyacinth turned pale as death and seized Anne's hand. Anne said nothing.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

The Quarrel

'So that's why he wouldn't take me to see her! He's been meeting her in secret. My instinct was right, but I didn't think he would do that now.

Oh, to think he's been deceiving me!'

'But you mustn't be in such a hurry to judge.' protested Anne; 'it may be just some accidental thing. Hyacinth, do take my advice. Don't say anything about it to him, and see if he mentions it. If he doesn't, then you'll have some reason for suspecting him, and we'll see what can be done.'

'He won't mention it--I know he won't. What accident could make them meet in a hansom in the Cromwell Road? It's too cruel! And I thought she was good. I didn't know she'd be so wicked as this. Why, they've only been married a few months. He never loved me; I told you so, Anne. He ought not to have married me. He only did it out of pique. He never cared for anyone but that woman.'

'Is it hopeless to ask you to listen to reason? So far you have no proof of anything of the kind. Certainly not that he cares for her now.'

'Didn't I see his face? I don't think he's ever looked like that at me.'

If Anne had had a momentary feeling of triumph, of that resignation to the troubles of other people that we are all apt to feel when the trouble is caused by one of whom we are jealous, the unworthy sentiment could not last at the sight of her friend's grief.

'This is serious, Hyacinth. And everything depends on your being clever now. I don't believe that she can possibly mean any harm. She never did.

Why on earth should she now? And if you remember, she didn't look a bit interested. There must be some simple explanation.'

'And if there isn't?'

'Then a strong line must be taken. He must be got away from her.'

"To think of having to say that! And he says he loves me! On our honeymoon I began to believe it. Since we have been home I told you I had vague fears, but nothing like this. It's an outrage."

"It isn't necessarily an outrage for your husband to drive his aunt in a hansom."

"Don't make fun of me, Anne, when you know she was formerly--"

"But she wasn't, my dear. That's just the point. I'm perfectly sure, I _really_ believe, that she never regarded him in that way at all. She looks on him as a boy, and quite an ordinary boy."

"Ah, but he isn't ordinary!"

"What ever you do, Hyacinth, don't meet him by making a scene. At present he a.s.sociates you with nothing but gentleness, affection, and pleasure. That is your power over him. It's a power that grows. Don't let him have any painful recollections of you."

"But the other woman, according to you, never gave him pleasure and gentleness and all that--yet you see he turns to her."

"That's a different thing. She didn't love him."

There was a pause.

"And if I find he doesn't mention the meeting, deceives me about it, don't you even advise me to charge him with it then?"

"It is what I should advise, if I wanted you to have a frightful quarrel--perhaps a complete rupture. If you found out he had deceived you, what would you really do?"

Hyacinth stood up.

"I should--no, I couldn't live without him!"

She broke down.

"I give you two minutes by the clock to cry," said Anne dryly, "not a second more. If you spoil your eyes and give yourself a frightful headache, what thanks do you suppose you'll get?"

Hyacinth dried her eyes.

"Nothing he says, nothing he tells me, even if he's perfectly open about the drive this afternoon, will ever convince me that he's not in love with her, and that's the awful thing."

"Even if that were true, it's not incurable. You're his wife. A thousand times prettier--and twenty years younger! The longer he lives with you the more fond he'll grow of you. You are his life--and a very charming life--not exactly a dull duty. She is merely--at the worst--a whim."

'Horrid creature! I believe she's a witch,' Hyacinth cried.

'Don't let us talk it over any more. Just as if your own instinct won't tell you what to do far better than I ever could! Besides, you understand men; you know how to deal with them by nature--I never could.

I see through them too well. I merely wanted to warn you--being myself a cool looker-on--to be prudent, not to say or do anything irrevocable. If you find you can't help making a scene, well, make one. It can't do much harm. It's only that making oneself unpleasant is apt to destroy one's influence. Naturally, people won't stand being bullied and interfered with if they can help it. It isn't human nature.'

'No; and it isn't human nature to share the person one loves with anyone else. That I could never do. I shall show him that.'

'The question doesn't arise. I feel certain you're making a mountain out of a mole-hill, dear. Well--cheer up!'

Anne took her departure.

As Cecil came in, looking, Hyacinth thought, particularly and irritatingly handsome, she felt a fresh attack of acute jealousy. And yet, in spite of her anger, her first sensation was a sort of relenting--a wish to let him off, not to entrap him into deceiving her by pretending not to know, not to act a part, but to throw herself into his arms, violently abusing Eugenia, forgiving him, and imploring him vaguely to take her away.