Yes, better that feeling than the present. The time would come when she would plead with him. To see her at his feet pleading, imploring, beseeching of him to withhold his hand—ah, then indeed his revenge would be accomplished. His heart quickened, he felt happy, at being so far away from Clara. When he thought of Clara his determination not to spare Barbara grew and intensified in force. Had he not married Clara in order to promote his vengeance? If Barbara had married him, as he had once told her, he would have been a good man. She had rejected him, and he was a bad one. On her own head the blame must fall.
He wandered about, too restless to go indoors, too restless to accept the invitation of the jolly landlord of the “Pelham Arms” to go into the bar parlor and have a smoke, too restless to do anything but long intensely for the moment when he might go up to the Towers and look at Barbara.
The time flew by, the hour arrived. He dressed with care. He put a light overcoat over his evening suit and walked the short distance from the “Arms” to the Towers. He arrived at the old place a few minutes before seven o’clock. He was shown at once into the rose drawing-room, a lovely apartment with oriel windows of colored glass fashioned in the shape of roses. The rose drawing-room opened into wide conservatories, the doors of which were unclosed, and the scent of many exotics filled the beautiful room.
Barbara, in a dress of white silk, stood near the hearth. Neither Pelham nor Mrs. Pelham had yet made their appearance. Barbara came a step forward when Tarbot entered.
“How is your wife?” she asked. She could scarcely have made a remark more displeasing to Tarbot. He frowned and bit his lips, then he answered shortly:
“Do you intend to make a long stay in Devonshire?” was Barbara’s next commonplace remark.
He answered that circumstances would decide that. Just then Mrs. Pelham came into the room, followed by Dick. Dinner was announced, and the party went into the dining hall. The meal was a subdued one. Pelham’s antipathy to Tarbot made itself felt. Notwithstanding all his efforts, he could not be cordial to his unwelcome guest. The men remained for a short time over wine, and joined the ladies soon afterwards in the drawing-room. The moment they did so, Barbara went up to her husband, slipped her hand inside his arm, and led him into the conservatory. Tarbot had hoped to have a few moments’ conversation with her. He bit his lips as he saw what this movement meant.