AUTHOR OF THE "STORY OF URSULA," "MISS TOD AND THE PROPHETS,"
"FAIRY-TALE PLAYS," ETC., ETC.
LONDON
EDWARD ARNOLD
37 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
1901
"It is a great mistake," said Miss Martin emphatically, "for anysensible woman to show a husband she adores him."
"Even her own, Aunt Anna?" said Lady Gore, with a contented smile whichAunt Anna felt to be ignoble.
"Of course I meant her own," she said stiffly. "I should hardly havethought, Elinor, that after being married so many years you would havemade jokes of that sort."
"That is just it," said Lady Gore, still annoyingly pleased withherself. "After adoring my husband for twenty-four years, it seems to methat I am an authority on the subject."
"Well, it is a great mistake," repeated Miss Martin firmly, as she gotup, feeling that the repetition notably strengthened her position. "As Isaid before, no sensible woman should do it."
Lady Gore began to feel a little annoyed. It is [Pg 2]fatiguing to hear one'saunt say the same thing twice. The burden of conversation is unequallydistributed if one has to think of two answers to each one remark ofone's interlocutor.
"And you are bringing up Rachel to do the same thing, you know," the oldlady went on, roused to fresh indignation at the thought of hergreat-niece, and she pulled her little cloth jacket down, and generallyshook herself together. Crabbed age and jackets should not livetogether. Age should be wrapped in the ample and tolerant cloak, hiderof frailties. It was not Aunt Anna's fault, however, if her garmentswere uncompromising and scanty of outline. Predestination reigns nowheremore strongly than in clothes, and it would have been inconceivable thateither Miss Martin's body or her mind should have assimilated theharmonious fluid adaptability of the draperies that framed andsurrounded Lady Gore as she lay on her couch.
"I don't think it does her much harm," said Lady Gore, a good dealunderstating her conviction of her daughter's perfections.
"That's as may be," said Miss Martin encouragingly. "Where is sheto-day, by the way?" she said, stopping on her way to the door.
"For a wonder she is not at home," Lady Gore said. "She has gone to stayaway from me for the first time in her life; she is at Mrs. Feversham's,at Maidenhead, for the night."
"How girls do gad nowadays, to be sure!" said Miss Martin.
"I hardly think that can be said of Rachel," said Lady Gore.
"Whether Rachel does or not, my dear Elinor, girls do gad—there is nodoubt about that. I'm sorry I have not seen William. He is too busy, Isuppose," with a slightly ironical intonation. "Goodbye!"
"Can you find your way out?" said Lady Gore, ringing a hand-bell.
"Oh dear, yes," said Miss Martin. "Goodbye," and out she went.
Lady Gore leant back with a sigh of relief. A companion like Miss Martinmakes a most excellent foil to solitude, and after she had departed,Lady Gore lay for a while in a state of pleasant quiescence. Why, shewondered, even supposing she herself did think too well of her husband,should Miss Martin object? Why do onlookers appear to resent thespectacle of a too united family? There is, no doubt, somethingexasperating in an excess of indiscriminating kindliness. But it is anamiable fault after all; and, besides, more discrimination may sometimesbe required to discover the hidd