Those two questioning dark eyes played eagerly over her from her brown curls down to the little shining shoe-tips which peeped from under the grey skirt. Especially they dwelt upon her face, reading it and rereading it. Never had Maude been so inspected, and her instinct told her that the inspection was not altogether a friendly one.
Violet Wright having examined her rival, proceeded now with the same cool attention to take in her surroundings. She looked round deliberately at the furniture of the room, and reconstructed in her own mind the life of the people who owned it. Maude ventured upon one or two conventional remarks, but her visitor was not to be diverted to the weather or to the slowness of the South-Western train service. She continued her quiet and silent inspection. Suddenly she rose and swept across to the side-table. A photograph of Frank in his volunteer uniform stood upon it.
'This is your husband, Mr. Frank Crosse?'
'Yes, do you know him?'
'Slightly. We have mutual friends.' An ambiguous smile played across her face as she spoke. 'This must have been taken after I saw him.'
'It was taken just after our marriage.'
'Quite so. He looks like a good little married man. The photograph is flattering.'
'Oh, you think so!' said Maude coldly. 'My own impression is that it fails to do him justice.'
Her visitor laughed. 'Of course that WOULD be your impression,' said she.
Maude's gentle soul began to rise in anger.
'It is the truth,' she cried.
'It is right that you should think so,' the other answered, with the same irritating laugh.
'You must have known him very slightly if you can't see that it is the truth.'
'Then I must have known him very slightly.'
Maude was very angry indeed. She began to find sides to her own nature the very existence of which she had never suspected. She tapped her little shoe upon the ground, and she sat with a pale face, and compressed lips, and bright eyes, quite prepared to be very rude indeed to this eccentric woman who ventured to criticise her Frank in so free and easy a style. Her visitor watched her, and a change had come over her expression. Maude's evident anger seemed to amuse and interest her. Her eyes lost their critical coldness, and softened into approval. She suddenly put her hand upon the other's shoulder with so natural and yet masterful a gesture, that Maude found it impossible to resent it.
'He is a lucky man to have such a warm little champion,' said she.
Her strong character and greater knowledge of the world gave her an ascendency over the girlish wife such as age has over youth. There were not ten years between them, and yet Maude felt that for some reason the conversation between them could not quite be upon equal terms. The quiet assurance of her visitor, whatever its cause, made resentment or remonstrance difficult. Besides, they were a pair of very kindly as well as of very shrewd eyes which now looked down into hers.
'You love him very much, then?'
'Of course I love him. He is my husband.'
'Does it always follow?'
'You are married yourself. Don't you love yours?'
'Oh, never mind mine. HE'S all right. Did you ever love any one else?'
'No, not really.'
Maude was astonished at herself, and yet the questions were so frankly put that a frank answer came naturally to them. It pleased her to lose that cold chill of dislike, and to feel that for some reason her strange visitor had become more friendly to her.
'You lucky girl, you actually married the one love of your life!'
Maude smiled and nodded.
'What a splendid thing to do! I thought it only happened in books. How happy you must be!'
'I AM very, very happy.'
'Well, I dare say you deserve to be. Besides, you really are very pretty. If ever you had a rival, I should think that it must be some consolation to her to know that it was so charming a person who cut her out.'
Maude laughed at the thought.
'I never had a rival,' said she. 'My husband never REALLY loved until he met me.'
'Did he--oh yes, quite so! That is so nice that you should both start with a clean sheet! I thought you were very handsome just now when you were angry with me, but you are quite delightful with that little flush upon your cheeks.