'No. I suppose one can't keep on pining for ever, and in course of time good food _will_ cover one's bones. But she felt it no end for months, and was altogether down in her luck. You see he got rather a horrible death, as his horse first threw him, and then almost trampled him beyond recognition.'
'How dreadful!' murmurs Miss Mordaunt, with a little shiver; and wonders how Mrs Leyton could ever have smiled afterwards.
'Yes; wasn't it? She took it so much to heart, that for years after she could not bear the sight of a horse, though she had the best seat in the regiment--amongst the women, I mean--and could not be induced to take a ride. Before leaving India, she sold, or gave away, every one of her horses.'
Here Cissy becomes intensely interested. 'To whom did she give them?' she asks indifferently.
'I hardly know; I was up-country at the time, but her most intimate friends, I suppose.--By-the-bye, Halkett was an immense crony of hers.'
'Never out of the house,' says the major, thinking it a good opportunity to improve his own chances, though really only giving voice to what had been the common report in that part of India where the catastrophe had occurred. 'After Tom Leyton's death, he would have married her like a shot; but she would not hear of it. She is a very handsome woman, you know, and tremendously admired by some fellows, though for my part I don't altogether see it.'
'Don't you? I think her wonderfully pretty. Perhaps she will relent, and marry him now; who knows? Certainly his constancy deserves some reward. Was it Mrs Leyton gave him the mare?'
'Don't know, I'm sure. But think it very likely, now you mention it, as he sets such uncommon store by her.--How very well Mrs Leyton is looking just now,' says the major, adjusting his eyeglass with much care, and glancing significantly at the other end of the room, where sits the widow in earnest conversation with Frank Halkett. Cissy follows the direction of his gaze, but, conscious of his scrutiny, takes care that not one muscle of her face betrays what she is really feeling.
Yes, very well, very handsome looks Mrs Leyton, as leaning gracefully back in her chair, with one hand toying idly with the rings that cover her fingers, she listens to Captain Halkett's conversation. Now and then she raises large dreamy eyes--half mirthful, half sympathetic--to his face, but scarcely interrupts him. He is talking with much earnestness--is apparently entirely engrossed by his subject--and takes no heed of what is going on around him. Presently he ceases, and evidently seeks an answer from his beautiful companion. She gives him one of her upward glances--all sympathy this time--and says a few words; but they are without doubt the right ones, as Halkett's face brightens, and a smile overspreads it that makes it positively handsome. At the moment he raises her hand, and bending over it, seems to examine her rings curiously. To Cissy the action almost bespeaks a betrothal, and renders her half indignant, wholly miserable. Nevertheless, turning to Major Blake, she says with a bright brave smile: 'I think my idea was right, and even now he has received his reward.'