“You don’t say so!” Mrs. Harcourt gasped.  She was a much simpler person than her sister.  “Jimmy assured me that Lord Tancred was violently in love with her, and that was it.”

“Jimmy always was a fool,” Lady Highford said, and as they went on to their rooms Lily Opie whispered,

“Kate, Laura Highford is an odious cat, and I don’t believe a word about Mr. Markrute and the getting Lord Tancred into his power.  That is only to make a salve for herself.  The Duke would never have Mr. Markrute here if there was anything fishy about him.  Why, ducky, you know it is the only house left in England, almost, where they have only US!”

* * * * *

Tristram was ready for dinner in good time but he hesitated about knocking at his wife’s door.  If she did not let him know she was ready he would send Higgins to ask for her maid.

His eyes were shining with the pride he felt in her.  She had indeed come up to the scratch.  He had not believed it possible that she could have been so gracious, and he had not even guessed that she would condescend to speak so much.  And all his old friends had been so awfully nice about her and honestly admiring; except Arthur Elterton—­he had admired rather too much!

And then this exaltation somewhat died down.  It was after all but a very poor, outside show, when, in reality, he could not even knock at her door!

He wished now he had never let his pride hurl forth that ultimatum on the wedding night, because he would have to stick to it!  He could not make the slightest advance, and it did not look as if she meant to do so.  Tristram in an ordinary case when his deep feelings were not concerned would have known how to display a thousand little tricks for the allurement of a woman, would have known exactly how to cajole her, to give her a flower, and hesitate when he spoke her name—­and a number of useful things—­but he was too terribly in earnest to be anything but a real, natural man; that is, hurt from her coldness and diffident of himself, and iron-bound with pride.

And Zara at the other side of the door felt almost happy.  It was the first evening in her life she had ever dressed without some heavy burden of care.  Her self-protective, watchful instincts could rest for a while; these new relations were truly, not only seemingly, so kind.  The only person she immediately and instinctively disliked was Lady Highford who had gushed and said one or two bitter-sweet things which she had not clearly nor literally understood, but which, she felt, were meant to be hostile.

And her husband, Tristram!  It was plain to be seen every one loved him—­from the old Duke, to the old setter by the fire.  And how was it possible for them all to love a man, when—­and then her thoughts unconsciously turned to if—­he were capable of so base a thing as his marriage with her had been?  Was it possible there could be any mistake?  On the first opportunity she would question her uncle; and although she knew that gentleman would only tell her exactly as much as he wished her to know, that much would be the truth.