No one would dare express pity or offer sympathy, for her whole air repelled it, and in her gloomy eyes sat scorn of herself mingled with defiance of the scorn of others. A strange, almost tragical-looking woman, in spite of beauty, grace, and the cold sweetness of her manner. A faint smile parted her lips as she greeted those about her, and as her husband seated himself beside Lady Treherne, she lifted her head with a long breath, and a singular expression of relief, as if a burden was removed, and for the time being she was free. Sir Jasper was at her side, and as she listened, her eye glanced from face to face.
“Who is with you now?” she asked, in a low, mellow voice that was full of music.
“My sister and my cousin are yonder. You may remember Tavia as a child, she is little more now. Maurice is an invalid, but the finest fellow breathing.”
“I understand,” and Mrs. Snowdon’s eyes softened with a sudden glance of pity for one cousin and admiration for the other, for she knew the facts.
“Major Royston, my father’s friend, and Frank Annon, my own. Do you know him?” asked Sir Jasper.
“No.”
“Then allow me to make him happy by presenting him, may I?”
“Not now. I’d rather see your cousin.”
“Thanks, you are very kind. I’ll bring him over.”
“Stay, let me go to him,” began the lady, with more feeling in face and voice than one would believe her capable of showing.
“Pardon, it will offend him, he will not be pitied, or relinquish any of the duties or privileges of a gentleman which he can possibly perform. He is proud, we can understand the feeling, so let us humor the poor fellow.”
Mrs. Snowdon bowed silently, and Sir Jasper called out in his hearty, blunt way, as if nothing was amiss with his cousin, “Maurice, I’ve an honor for you. Come and receive it.”
Divining what it was, Treherne noiselessly crossed the room, and with no sign of self-consciousness or embarrassment, was presented to the handsome woman. Thinking his presence might be a restraint, Sir Jasper went away. The instant his back was turned, a change came over both: an almost grim expression replaced the suavity of Treherne’s face, and Mrs. Snowdon’s smile faded suddenly, while a deep flush rose to her brow, as her eyes questioned his beseechingly.
“How dared you come?” he asked below his breath.
“The general insisted.”
“And you could not change his purpose; poor woman!”
“You will not be pitied, neither will I,” and her eyes flashed; then the fire was quenched in tears, and her voice lost all its pride in a pleading tone.
“Forgive me, I longed to see you since your illness, and so I ‘dared’ to come.”
“You shall be gratified; look, quite helpless, crippled for life, perhaps.”
The chair was turned from the groups about the fire, and as he spoke, with a bitter laugh Treherne threw back the skin which covered his knees, and showed her the useless limbs once so strong and fleet. She shrank and paled, put out her hand to arrest him, and cried in an indignant whisper, “No, no, not that! You know I never meant such cruel curiosity, such useless pain to both— ”
“Be still, someone is coming,” he returned inaudibly; adding aloud, as he adjusted the skin and smoothed the rich fur as if speaking of it, “Yes, it is a very fine one, Jasper gave it to me. He spoils me, like a dear, generous-hearted fellow as he is. Ah, Octavia, what can I do for you?”
“Nothing, thank you. I want to recall myself to Mrs. Snowdon’s memory, if she will let me.”
“No need of that; I never forget happy faces and pretty pictures. Two years ago I saw you at your first ball, and longed to be a girl again.”
As she spoke, Mrs. Snowdon pressed the hand shyly offered, and smiled at the spirited face before her, though the shadow in her own eyes deepened as she met the bright glance of the girl.
“How kind you were that night! I remember you let me chatter away about my family, my cousin, and my foolish little affairs with the sweetest patience, and made me very happy by your interest. I was homesick, and Aunt could never bear to hear of those things. It was before your marriage, and all the kinder, for you were the queen of the night, yet had a word for poor little me.”
Mrs. Snowdon was pale to the lips, and Maurice impatiently tapped the arm of his chair, while the girl innocently chatted on.
“I am sorry the general is such an invalid; yet I dare say you find great happiness in taking care of him. It is so pleasant to be of use to those we love.” And as she spoke, Octavia leaned over her cousin to hand him the glove he had dropped.
The affectionate smile that accompanied the act made the color deepen again in Mrs. Snowdon’s cheek, and lit a spark in her softened eyes. Her lips curled and her voice was sweetly sarcastic as she answered, “Yes, it is charming to devote one’s life to these dear invalids, and find one’s reward in their gratitude. Youth, beauty, health, and happiness are small sacrifices if one wins a little comfort for the poor sufferers.”
The girl felt the sarcasm under the soft words and drew back with a troubled face.
Maurice smiled, and glanced from one to the other, saying significantly, “Well for me that my little nurse loves her labor, and finds no sacrifice in it. I am fortunate in my choice.”
“I trust it may prove so— ” Mrs. Snowdon got no further, for at that moment dinner was announced, and Sir Jasper took her away. Annon approached with him and offered his arm to Miss Treherne, but with an air of surprise, and a little gesture of refusal, she said coldly:
“My cousin always takes me in to dinner. Be good enough to escort the major.” And with her hand on the arm of the chair, she walked away with a mischievous glitter in her eyes.
Annon frowned and fell back, saying sharply, “Come, Major, what are you doing there?”
“Making discoveries.”
Chapter 2 BYPLAY
A right splendid old dowager was Lady Treherne, in her black velvet and point lace, as she sat erect and stately on a couch by the drawing-room fire, a couch which no one dare occupy in her absence, or share uninvited. The gentlemen were still over their wine, and the three ladies were alone. My lady never dozed in public, Mrs. Snowdon never gossiped, and Octavia never troubled herself to entertain any guests but those of her own age, so long pauses fell, and conversation languished, till Mrs. Snowdon roamed away into the library. As she disappeared, Lady Treherne beckoned to her daughter, who was idly making chords at the grand piano. Seating herself on the ottoman at her mother’s feet, the girl took the still handsome hand in her own and amused herself with examining the old-fashioned jewels that covered it, a pretext for occupying her telltale eyes, as she suspected what was coming.
“My dear, I’m not pleased with you, and I tell you so at once, that you may amend your fault,” began Madame Mère in a tender tone, for though a haughty, imperious woman, she idolized her children.
“What have I done, Mamma?” asked the girl.
“Say rather, what have you left undone. You have been very rude to Mr. Annon. It must not occur again; not only because he is a guest, but because he is your—brother’s friend.”
My lady hesitated over the word “lover,” and changed it, for to her Octavia still seemed a child, and though anxious for the alliance, she forbore to speak openly, lest the girl should turn willful, as she inherited her mother’s high spirit.
“I’m sorry, Mamma. But how can I help it, when he teases me so that I detest him?” said Octavia, petulantly.
“How tease, my love?”
“Why, he follows me about like a dog, puts on a sentimental look when