A Crooked Path Part 73

There stood the pretty, smartly dressed little woman, all airy elegance, but the usually smiling lips were compressed, and the smooth white brow was wrinkled with a frown. She was examining a book of photographs--most of them signed by the donors.

"Oh, Katherine! how do you do?" she said, sharply, and not in the least abashed by any memory of their last meeting. "I am up in town for a few days, and I couldn't leave without seeing you. You see I have too much feeling to turn _my_ back on an old friend, however injured I may be by circ.u.mstances over which you had no control. You are not looking well, Katie; you are so white, and your eyes don't seem to be half open."

"I am quite well, I a.s.sure you," said Katherine, composedly, and avoiding a half-offered kiss by drawing a chair forward for her visitor.

"I wish I could say as much," returned Mrs. Ormonde, with a deep sigh, throwing herself into it. "I am perfectly wretched; Ormonde is quite intolerable at times since everything has collapsed. I am sure I often wish you had never done anything for the boys or me, and then we should never have fancied ourselves rich. Of course I don't blame you; you meant well, but it is all very unfortunate."

"It is indeed; but is it possible that Colonel Ormonde is so unmanly as to--"

"Unmanly?" interrupted his wife. "Manly, you mean. Of course he revenges himself on me. Not always. He is all right sometimes; but if anything goes wrong, then I suffer. Fortunately I was prudent, and made little savings, with which I am--but"--interrupting herself--"that is not worth speaking about."

"I am sorry you are unhappy, Ada," said Katherine, with her ready sympathy.

"Oh, don't think I allow myself to be trodden on," cried Mrs. Ormonde, her eyes suddenly lighting up. "It was a hard fight at first, but I saw it was a struggle for life; and when we knew the worst, and Ormonde raved and roared, I said I should leave him and take baby (I could, you know, till he was seven years old), and that the servants would swear I was in fear of my life; and I should have done it, and carried my case, too! I'm not sure it would not have been better for me. But he gave in, and asked me to stay. I felt pretty safe then. Now, when he is disagreeable, I burst into tears at dinner, and upset my gla.s.s of claret on the table-cloth, and totter out of the room weak and tremulous. I can see the butler and James ready to tear him to pieces. When he is good-humored, so am I; and when he tries to bully, why, what with trembling so much that I break something he likes, and fits of hysterics, and being awfully frightened before strangers, and making things go wrong when he wishes to create a great effect on some one, I think he begins to see it is better not to quarrel with me. Still, it is awfully miserable, compared with what it used to be when I really thought he loved me. How pleasant we all were together at Castleford before this horrid man turned up! Why didn't that awkward bush-ranger take better aim?"

"I dare say George Liddell is not quite of your opinion," said Katherine, smiling at her sister-in-law's candor.

"He was quite rich before," continued Mrs. Ormonde, querulously. "Why couldn't he be satisfied to stay out there and spend his own money? I hate selfishness and greed!"

"They _are_ odious in every one," said Katherine, gravely.

"Now that I feel satisfied you are well and happy," resumed Mrs.

Ormonde, who had never put a single question respecting herself to Katherine, "there are one or two things I wanted to ask you. Where are the boys?"

"They are still at Sandbourne; but they leave, I am sorry to say, at Easter."

"Oh, they do! It is an awfully expensive school. Are you quite sure, Katherine, they will not send in the bill to me?"

"Quite sure, Ada, for I have paid in advance."

"That was really very thoughtful, dear. Then--excuse my asking; I would not interfere with you for the world--but what _are_ you going to do with them in the Easter holidays? I _dare_ not have them at Castleford.

I should lose all the ground I have gained if such a thing was even hinted to the Colonel."

"Why apologize for inquiring about your own children? Do not be alarmed, they shall _not_ go. I am just now arranging for them to go to a school at Wandsworth, and for the Easter holidays Miss Payne has most kindly invited them."

"Really! How very nice! I will send her a hamper from Castleford. I can manage that much. This is rather a nice little place," continued Mrs.

Ormonde, evidently much relieved and looking round. "What lots of pretty things! Is Mrs. Needham nice? She seemed rather a flashy woman. You must feel it an awful change from being an heiress, and so much made of, to being a sort of upper servant! Do you dine with Mrs. Needham?"

"Yes, I really do, and go out to evening parties with her."

"No, really?"

"It is a fact. She is a kind, delightful woman to live with. I am most fortunate."

"Fortunate? You cannot say that, Katie! You are the most unfortunate girl in the world. You know how penniless women are looked upon in society. _I_ remember when Ormonde thought himself such a weak idiot for being attracted to me, all because I had no money. It makes such a difference! Why, there is Lord De Burgh; I met him yesterday, and asked him to have a cup of tea with me, and he never once mentioned your name."

"Why should he? I never knew Lord De Burgh," said Katherine.

"Yes, you did, dear! Why, you cannot know what is going on if you have not heard that old De Burgh died nearly a fortnight ago in Paris, and our friend has come in for _every_thing. He had just returned from the funeral, so he said, and is looking darker and glummer than ever. Well, you know how he used to run after you. I a.s.sure you he never made a single inquiry about you. Heartless, wasn't it? I said something about that horrid man coming back, and--would you believe it?--he laughed in that odious, cynical way he has, and called me a little tigress. The only sympathetic word he spoke was to call it an infernal business. He doesn't care what he says, you know. Then he asked if Ormonde was tearing his hair about it. What a pity you did not encourage him, Katie, and marry him! Once you were his wife he could not have thrown you off.

Now I don't suppose you'll ever see _him_ again. I rather think Mrs.

Needham does not know many of _his_ set."

"She knows an extraordinary number of people--all sorts and conditions of men; Mr. Errington often dines here."

"Does he? But then he is a sort of literary hack now. Just think what a change both for you and him!"

"It is very extraordinary; but he keeps his position better than I do."

"Of course. Men are always better off. Now, dear, I must go. I am quite glad to have seen you, and sorry to think that my husband is absurdly prejudiced against you from the way you spoke to him last time. It was by no means prudent."

"Well, Ada, should Colonel Ormonde so far overcome his objection to me as to seek me again, I think it very likely I may say more imprudent things than I did last time. Pray, what do I owe him that I should measure my words?"

"Really, Katherine, when you hold your head up in that way I feel half afraid of you. There is no use trying to hold your own with the world when your pocket is empty. You see n.o.body troubles about you now, whereas--"

"Miss Bradley!" announced the servant; and Angela entered, in an exquisite walking dress of dark blue velvet; bonnet and feathers, gloves, parasol, all to match. Mrs. Ormonde gazed in delighted admiration at this splendid apparition.

"My dear Miss Liddell!" she exclaimed, shaking hands cordially. "I have rushed over to tell you that we have secured a box for Patti's benefit on Thursday, and I want you to join us. I know Mrs. Needham has a stall, but she will sup with us after. Mr. Errington and one or two musical critics are coming to dine with me at half past six, and we can go together."

"You are very good," said Katherine, coloring. She did not particularly care to go with Miss Bradley, and she was amused at Mrs. Ormonde's expression of astonishment. "Of course I shall be most happy."

"Now I must not stay; I have heaps to do. Will you be so kind as to give me the address of the modiste you mentioned the other day who made that pretty gray dress of yours? Madame Maradan is so full she cannot do a couple of morning dresses for me, so I want to try your woman."

"I shall be so glad if you will," cried Katherine. "I will bring you one of her cards. Let me introduce my sister-in-law to you. Mrs. Ormonde, Miss Bradley." She left the room, and Miss Bradley drew a chair beside her. "I think I had the pleasure of seeing you at Lady Carton's garden party last July?" she said, courteously.

"Oh, dear me, yes! I thought I knew your face. Lady Carton introduced you to me. Lady Carton is a cousin of Colonel Ormonde's."

"Oh, indeed! Miss Liddell was not there?"

"No; she chose to bury herself by the sea-side for the whole season."

Here Katherine returned with the card.

"I am so glad you are going to give my friend Rachel Trant a trial. I am sure you will like her. She has excellent taste."

"Now I must not wait any longer. So good-by. Shall you be at Madame Caravicelli's this evening?"

"I am not sure. I don't feel much disposed to go."

"Good-by for the present, then. Good-morning," to Mrs. Ormonde, and Miss Bradley swept out of the room.

"Well, Katherine!" cried Mrs. Ormonde, when her sister-in-law returned, "you seem to have fallen on your feet here. Pray who is that fine, elegant girl who seems so fond of you?"

"She is the daughter of a wealthy publisher, and has been very kind to me."

"Ah, yes! I remember now, Lady Carton said she would have a large fortune; and so she is your intimate friend?"

"Well, a very kind friend."