at they had
not yet met. Little as she was a woman to admit that she had been in the
wrong she was known to have granted later that at this moment she had
made a mistake in not going straight to her own house. It had given
Lionel a degree of advantage, made it appear perhaps a little that she
had a bad conscience and was afraid to face him. But she had had her
reasons for putting up at an hotel, and she thought it unnecessary to
express them very definitely. She came home by a morning train, the
second day, and arrived before luncheon, of which meal she partook in
the company of her sister and in that of Miss Steet and the children,
sent for in honour of the occasion. After luncheon she let the governess
go but kept Scratch and Parson--kept them on ever so long in the
morning-room where she remained; longer than she had ever kept them
before. Laura was conscious that she ought to have been pleased at this,
but there was a perversity even in Selina's manner of doing right; for
she wished immensely now to see her alone--she had something so serious
to say to her. Selina hugged her children repeatedly, encouraging their
sallies; she laughed extravagantly at the artlessness of their remarks,
so that at table Miss Steet was quite abashed by her unusual high
spirits. Laura was unable to question her about Captain Crispin and Lady
Ringrose while Geordie and Ferdy were there: they would not understand,
of course, but names were always reflected in their limpid little minds
and they gave forth the image later--often in the most extraordinary
connections. It was as if Selina knew what she was waiting for and were
determined to make her wait. The girl wished her to go to her room, that
she might follow her there. But Selina showed no disposition to retire,
and one could never entertain the idea for her, on any occasion, that it
would be suitable that she should change her dress. The dress she
wore--whatever it was--was too becoming to her, and to the moment, for
that. Laura noticed how the very folds of her garment told that she had
been to Paris; she had spent only a week there but the mark of her
_couturiere_ was all over her: it was simply to confer with this great
artist that, from her own account, she had crossed the Channel. The
signs of the conference were so conspicuous that it was as if she had
said, 'Don't you see the proof that it was for nothing but _chiffons_?'
She walked up and down the room with Geordie in her arms, i