"My dear," she said kindly, smoothing the dark hair, "Archie loves you for yourself, not for your money. Now go downstairs, dear, and excuse me to your father."
"And you will see him to-night about Archie?"
Mrs. Belswin gasped in a somewhat hysterical manner, and caught at the mantelpiece for support, as she repeated the words.
"I will see him to-night--about--about--Archie."
Kaituna was satisfied and departed, but when the door was closed after her, Mrs. Belswin rushed madly across the room, and, flinging herself on her knees before the door, burst out into a terrible fit of crying.
"Oh, my dear! my dear!" she wailed, in a low moaning manner, "what can I do? what can I do? If your father dies you will be left penniless; if he lives I shall have to leave you forever--for ever, my dear--and go away into the outer darkness. Oh, God! God! is there nothing I can do?"
She looked up at the painted ceiling, as if expecting an answer, but none came; so, rising wearily to her feet, she locked the door, and dragged herself slowly towards the mirror.
"What an old, old woman I look," she muttered, peering into the glass. "Grey hairs in the black; wrinkles in the smooth face. I wonder if he will recognise me. Surely not! Twenty years make a great difference. I will see him now in another two hours. He never dreams I am under the same roof, unless Dombrain----"
She started, drew herself up to her full height, and clenched her hands.
"Dombrain!" she said again. "Can he have revealed anything to Rupert? I know he hates me, and would do me an injury if he dared. But he cannot. No! I hold his secret; while I do that mine is safe with him. Oh! how ill I feel, but I must not faint, I must not quail. I must be brave--brave for my child's sake."
She bathed her face in cold water, took a small liqueur glass of brandy, which she produced from the dressing-bag, and then went to lie down for a time before facing her husband.
"To-night," she murmured, as her head sank on the pillows. "To-night, Rupert Pethram, we measure swords. Let us see who will win. You or I!"
"Oh, I was the husband and you were the wife; We met, and we married, and parted. Our meeting was happy, our marriage was strife: Our parting left each broken-hearted. Our hearts are now cured of their anguish and shame; We've learned each our lesson of sorrow; 'Tis folly to need the same lesson again, And so I will bid you 'good-morrow.'"