Will O’ the Wisp Read Free

moment she stopped to look sideways at her left hand with Frank’s ring on it. It was this look that brought Erica back—Erica looking at her ring, her new wedding ring—Erica looking sideways—Erica, not Julie. It was only just for an instant; but it hurt, because Erica had been so young and she had never had any happy times; it hurt, because he had meant to make her happy.
    â€œHullo, David!” said Betty.
    The Charles Aldereys had taken her place by Grandmamma’s chair. Mrs. Charles stout and beaming, and the three Alderey girls, pretty, gushing, and arrayed in remnants snatched from the sales and boasted of as tokens of prowess.
    Betty looked down her long nose at them and said plaintively:
    â€œIt’s the first birthday Dick has missed. I do think schools are inconsiderate. I did think they’d let me have him up for the afternoon. But they simply wouldn’t; they said he’d only just gone back—as if that had anything to do with it! I do think they might have some consideration for Grandmamma, if not for me!”
    â€œToo bad!” said Julie.
    Betty just trailed on.
    â€œThey simply make one’s life a burden to one with their rules. You wait till you’ve got boys, and then you’ll know what it is. I believe they do it on purpose, just to show parents that they don’t mean to take any notice of them.”
    Julie put up her hand to screen a foolish hot cheek.
    â€œWho’s that?” she said.
    The room had been filling fast; one could hardly see Miss Editha’s bright new chair-covers for relations. The St. Clair St. Kerns, Grandmamma’s contemporaries, with a stout unmarried son and a thin unmarried daughter, Marches, Aldereys, and more St. Kerns, sat, stood, or moved in a space that became every moment more crowded. One by one they greeted Grandmamma and passed on, telling one another how wonderful she was.
    At the moment that Julie said “Who’s that?” there was a lull in the buzz of talk because, like Julie, everyone was looking at the door, which had just opened.
    Julie saw a tall woman in black stand for a moment on the threshold. With a quick, warm admiration she forgot Betty’s chatter and said:
    â€œWho’s that?”
    David looked across the crowd and saw Eleanor Rayne. To his surprise his heart beat a little faster. She was thinner; she looked taller. She wore black, but it did not look like mourning. India, or grief, had robbed her of her lovely bloom, but without it she was more beautiful than he remembered. There was something proud and sweet about the way she looked; there was a sad enchantment in her smile, which outweighed the loss of curve and colour.
    She met David’s eyes. The smile deepened in her own. She stepped into the room, and David saw that she was wearing violets, the large pale double violets which smell so sweet.
    Miss Editha’s embrace engulfed her.
    â€œDear Eleanor!”—three rapid kisses—“My dearest girl, how delightful to see you again! But I mustn’t keep you—no, not a moment—Grandmamma first. And—yes, just one word with Aunt Mary. Mary, dearest, isn’t this delightful? But we mustn’t keep her.”
    â€œI’ll come back.”
    David caught the deep, grave tone. Eleanor’s voice at least had not altered. It gave him an odd sensation.
    â€œGrandmamma”—this was Miss Editha again—“isn’t this too delightful? Here’s Eleanor.”
    â€œH’m,” said Mrs. Fordyce.
    Her hands, with the rings all crooked, were lying on the arms of her padded chair. It was upholstered in dark maroon; the deep colour made her hands look very white, the veins on them dark and knotted. She lifted the right hand now, touched Eleanor’s glove with it, and gave her a little push.
    â€œScent!” she said. “Out!”
    She withdrew the hand, covered her mouth with it, and