Chapter III.

Striking the Flag.

The events narrated in our last chapter took place early in November, and it was not till the following March that the astonished friends of Horace Rutherford saw him reappear amongst them as suddenly and as unexpectedly as he had departed.  “Business of importance” was the sole explanation he vouchsafed to those who questioned him respecting the motive of his brief European tour; and with that answer public curiosity was perforce obliged to content itself.  Society had, in fact, grown weary of discussing the affairs of the Rutherford family.  Clement Rutherford’s mesalliance, his mother’s sudden illness at that memorable dinner-party, her subsequent seclusion from the world, and Horace’s inexplicable absence, had all afforded food for the insatiable appetite of the scandal-mongers.  Then Gossip grew eloquent respecting the flirtations and “fast” manners of Clement Rutherford’s wife, and whispered that the old lady’s seizure had been either apoplexy or paralysis, brought on by her distress of mind at her son’s marriage, and that she had never been herself since.  Next, the elegant establishment of the newly-wedded pair on Twenty-sixth street, with its gorgeous furniture and costly appointments, furnished a theme for much conversation, and doubts were expressed as to whether the “Upper Ten” would honor with its august presence the ball which Mrs. Clement Rutherford proposed giving on Shrove Tuesday, which in that year came about the middle of March.  But as to that, it was generally conceded that they would.  Youth, beauty, wealth and the shadow of an old family name could cover a multitude of such sins as rapid manners, desperate flirtations and a questionable origin; and notwithstanding her fastness, and, worse still, her ci-devant governess-ship, Mrs. Clement Rutherford was a decided social success.

On the day succeeding that oh which he had arrived, Horace made his appearance at his brother’s house.  Clement had not heard of his return, and received him with a cordiality strikingly at variance with his usual manner.

“Come into the library,” he said, after the first greetings had been exchanged.  “I have some fine cigars for you to try, and you can tell me something about your travels.”

“Thank you, Clement:  I believe I must decline your offer.  I have a message for your wife:  can I see her?”

A cloud swept over the brow of the elder brother.

“I suppose you can,” he said, coldly, looking at his watch as he spoke.  “Two o’clock.  She took breakfast about half an hour ago, so she is probably at home.  You had better go up stairs to her boudoir, as she calls it, and Christine, her maid, will tell her that you wish to see her.”

He turned away, and was about to leave the room when Horace caught his hand.

“Clement! brother!  Answer me one question:  Are you happy in your married life?”