Adrian sat with a face that looked old and lined and grey; with haggard unseeing eyes gazing forth into space as though fixing some invisible and spectre show. He seemed as if wrapt in a world of his own, to which none of us had entrance; least of all, I, his wife.
The shouts around us died away, there were cries upon him for "Speech--speech," then playful queries--"How is this, Sir Adrian? So bashful, egad!" next nudges were exchanged, looks of wonder, and an old voice speaking broadly:
_"Yes, by George,"_ it was saying, _"I remember it well, by George, in this very room, now twenty years ago, 'Here, gentlemen,' says old Sir Tummas, 'Here's to Madam de Savenaye,' and gad, ma'am, we all yelled,--she was a lovely creature--Eh--Eh?"_
"Hush," said some one, and there was a running circle of frowns and the old voice ceased as abruptly as if its owner had been seized by the weasand. In the heavy embarrassed silence, I caught Tanty's red perturbed look and Rupert's smile.
But Adrian sat on--like a ghost among the living, or a live man among the dead. And this was my gallant bridegroom! I seized him by the hand--"Are you ill, Adrian?"
He started and looked round at me--Oh that look! It seemed to burn into my soul, I shall never forget the hopelessness, the dull sadness of it, and then--I don't know what he read in my answering glance--the mute agonised question, followed by a terror.
"They want you to speak," I whispered, and shook the cold hand I held in a fury of impatience.
His lips trembled: he stared at me blankly. "My God, my God, what have I done?" he muttered to himself, "Cécile's child--Cécile's child!"
I could have burst out sobbing. But seeing Rupert's face bent down towards his plate, demure and solemn, yet stamped, for all his cleverness, with an almost devilish triumph, my pride rose and my courage. Every one else seemed to be looking towards us: I stood up.
"Good friends," I said, "I see that my husband is so much touched by the welcome that you are giving his bride, the welcome that you are giving him after his long exile from his house, that he is quite unable to answer you as he would wish. But lest you should misunderstand this silence of his, I am bold enough to answer you in his name, and--since it is but a few moments ago that you have seen us made one, I think I have the right to do so.... We thank you."