“Certainly,” said he. “I was only going to dress. It is nearly the half-hour.”
“I won’t keep you very long, and if dinner is a few minutes late it won’t signify. Mamma and Margaretta are going to Baden-Baden.”
“To Baden-Baden, are they?”
“Yes; and they intend to remain there—for a considerable time.” There was a little pause, and Alexandrina found it necessary to clear her voice and to prepare herself for further speech by a little cough. She was determined to make her proposition, but was rather afraid of the manner in which it might be first received.
“Has anything happened at Courcy Castle?” Crosbie asked.
“No; that is, yes; there may have been some words between papa and mamma; but I don’t quite know. That, however, does not matter now. Mamma is going, and purposes to remain there for the rest of the year.”
“And the house in town will be given up.”
“I suppose so, but that will be as papa chooses. Have you any objection to my going with mamma?”
What a question to be asked by a bride of ten weeks’ standing! She had hardly been above a month with her husband in her new house, and she was now asking permission to leave it, and to leave him also, for an indefinite number of months—perhaps for ever. But she showed no excitement as she made her request. There was neither sorrow, nor regret, nor hope in her face. She had not put on half the animation which she had once assumed in asking for the use, twice a week, of a carriage done up to look as though it were her own private possession. Crosbie had then answered her with great sternness, and she had wept when his refusal was made certain to her. But there was to be no weeping now. She meant to go,—with his permission if he would accord it, and without it if he should refuse it. The question of money was no doubt important, but Gazebee should manage that,—as he managed all those things.
“Going with them to Baden-Baden?” said Crosbie. “For how long?”
“Well: it would be no use unless it were for some time.”
“For how long a time do you mean, Alexandrina? Speak out what you really have to say. For a month?”
“Oh, more than that.”
“For two months, or six, or as long as they may stay there?”
“We could settle that afterwards, when I am there.” During all this time she did not once look into his face, though he was looking hard at her throughout.
“You mean,” said he, “that you wish to go away from me.”
“In one sense it would be going away, certainly.”
“But in the ordinary sense? is it not so? When you talk of going to Baden-Baden for an unlimited number of months, have you any idea of coming back again?”
“Back to London, you mean?”
“Back to me,—to my house,—to your duties as a wife! Why cannot you say at once what it is you want? You wish to be separated from me?”