Meanwhile, Sir Philip himself, in a white heat of restrained anger, arrived at Winsleigh House, and asked to see Lord Winsleigh immediately.

Briggs, who opened the door to him, was a little startled at his haggard face and blazing eyes, even though he knew, through Britta, all about the sorrow that had befallen him. Briggs was not surprised at Lady Errington's departure,--that portion of his "duty" which consisted in listening at doors, had greatly enlightened him on many points,--all, save one--the reported connection between Sir Philip and Violet Vere.

This seemed to be really true according to all appearances.

"Which it puzzles me," soliloquized the owner of the shapely calves. "It do, indeed. Yet I feels very much for Sir Philip,--I said to Flopsie this morning--'Flopsie, I feels for 'im!' Yes,--I used them very words.

Only, of course, he shouldn't 'ave gone with Vi. She's a fine woman certainly--but skittish--d--d skittish! I've allus made it a rule myself to avoid 'er on principle. Lor! if I'd kep' company with 'er and the likes of 'er I shouldn't be the man I am!" And he smiled complacently.

Lord Winsleigh, who was in his library as usual, occupied with his duties as tutor to his son Ernest, rose to receive Sir Philip with an air of more than his usual gravity.

"I was about to write to you, Errington," he began, and then stopped short, touched by the utter misery expressed in Philip's face. He addressed Ernest with a sort of nervous haste.

"Run away, my boy, to your own room. I'll send for you again presently."

Ernest obeyed. "Now," said Lord Winsleigh, as soon as the lad disappeared, "tell me everything, Errington. Is it true that your wife has left you?"

"Left me!" and Philip's eyes flashed with pa.s.sionate anger. "No Winsleigh!--she's been driven away from me by the vilest and most heartless cruelty. She's been made to believe a scandalous and abominable lie against me--and she's gone! I--I--by Jove! I hardly like to say it to your face--but--"

"I understand!" a curious flicker of a smile shadowed rather than brightened Lord Winsleigh's stern features. "Pray speak quite plainly!

Lady Winsleigh is to blame? I am not at all surprised!"

Errington gave him a rapid glance of wonder. He had always fancied Winsleigh to be a studious, rather dull sort of man, absorbed in books and the education of his son,--a man, more than half blind to everything that went on around him--and, moreover, one who deliberately shut his eyes to the frivolous coquetry of his wife,--and though he liked him fairly well, there had been a sort of vague contempt mingled with his liking. Now a new light was suddenly thrown on his character--there was something in his look, his manner, his very tone of voice,--which proved to Errington that there was a deep and forcible side to his nature of which his closest friends had never dreamed--and he was somewhat taken aback by the discovery. Seeing that he still hesitated, Winsleigh laid a hand encouragingly on his shoulder and said--

"I repeat--I'm not at all surprised! Nothing that Lady Winsleigh might do would cause me the slightest astonishment. She has long ceased to be my wife, except in name,--that she still bears that name and holds the position she has in the world is simply--for my son's sake! I do not wish,"--his voice quivered slightly--"I do not wish the boy to despise his mother. It's always a bad beginning for a young man's life. I want to avoid it for Ernest, if possible,--regardless of any personal sacrifice." He paused a moment--then resumed. "Now, speak out, Errington, and plainly,--for if mischief has been done and I can repair it in any way, you may be sure I will."

Thus persuaded, Sir Philip briefly related the whole story of the misunderstanding that had arisen concerning Neville's wife, Violet Vere--and concluded by saying--

"It is, of course, only through Britta that I've just heard about Lady Winsleigh's having anything to do with it. Her information may not be correct--I hope it isn't,--but--"

Lord Winsleigh interrupted him. "Come with me," he said composedly.

"We'll resolve this difficulty AT once."

He led the way out of the library across the hall. Errington followed him in silence. He knocked at the door of his wife's room,--in response to her "Come in!" they both entered. She was alone, reclining on a sofa, reading,--she started up with a pettish exclamation at sight of her husband, but observing who it was that came with him, she stood mute, the color rushing to her cheeks with surprise and something of fear. Yet she endeavored to smile, and returned with her usual grace their somewhat formal salutations.

"Clara," then said Lord Winsleigh gravely, "I have to ask you a question on behalf of Sir Philip Errington here,--a question to which it is necessary for you to give the plain answer. Did you or did you not procure this letter from Violet Vere, of the Brilliant Theatre--and did you or did you not, give it yourself yesterday into the hands of Lady Bruce-Errington?" And he laid the letter in question, which Philip had handed to him, down upon the table before her.

She looked at it--then at him--then from him to Sir Philip, who uttered no word--and lightly shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, carelessly.

Sir Philip turned upon her indignantly.

"Lady Winsleigh, you _do_ know--"

She interrupted him with a stately gesture.

"Excuse me, Sir Philip! I am not accustomed to be spoken to in this extraordinary manner. You forget yourself--my husband, I think, also forgets himself! I know nothing whatever about Violet Vere--I am not fond of the society of actresses. Of course, I've heard about your admiration for her--that is common town-talk,--though my informant on this point was Sir Francis Lennox."

"Sir Francis Lennox!" cried Philip furiously. "Thank G.o.d! there's a man to deal with! By Heaven, I'll choke him with his own lie!"

Lady Winsleigh raised her eyebrows in well-bred surprise.

"Dear me! It is a lie, then? Now, I should have thought from all accounts that it was so very likely to be true!"

Philip turned white with pa.s.sion. Her sarcastic smile,--her mocking glance,--irritated him almost beyond endurance.

"Permit me to ask you, Clara," continued Lord Winsleigh calmly, "if you,--as you say, know nothing about Violet Vere, why did you go to the Brilliant Theatre yesterday morning?"

She flashed an angry glance at him.

"Why? To secure a box for the new performance. Is there anything wonderful in that?"

Her husband remained unmoved. "May I see the voucher for this box?" he inquired.

"I've sent it to some friends," replied her ladyship haughtily. "Since when have you decided to become an inquisitor, my lord?"

"Lady Winsleigh," said Philip suddenly and eagerly, "will you swear to me that you have said or done nothing to make my Thelma leave me?"

"Oh, she _has_ left you, has she?" and Lady Clara smiled maliciously. "I thought she would! Why don't you ask your dear friend, George Lorimer, about her? He is madly in love with her, as everybody knows,--she is probably the same with him!"

"Clara, Clara!" exclaimed Lord Winsleigh in accents of deep reproach.

"Shame on you! Shame!"

Her ladyship laughed amusedly. "Please don't be tragic!" she said; "it's too ridiculous! Sir Philip has only himself to blame. Of course, Thelma knows about his frequent visits to the Brilliant Theatre. I told her all that Sir Francis said. Why should she be kept in the dark? I dare say she doesn't mind--she's very fond of Mr. Lorimer!"

Errington felt as though he must choke with fury. He forgot the presence of Lord Winsleigh--he forgot everything but his just indignation.

"My G.o.d!" he cried pa.s.sionately. "You _dare_ to speak so!--_you_!"

"Yes I!" she returned coolly, measuring him with a glance. "I dare! What have you to say against _me_?" She drew herself up imperiously.

Then turning to her husband, she said, "Have the goodness to take your excited friend away, my lord! I am going out--I have a great many engagements this morning--and I really cannot stop to discuss this absurd affair any longer! It isn't my fault that Sir Philip's excessive admiration for Miss Vere has become the subject of gossip--_I_ don't blame him for it! He seems extremely ill-tempered about it; after all, _'ce n'est que la verite qui blesse!'_"

And she smiled maliciously.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"For my mother's sake, For thine and hers, O Love! I pity take On all poor women. Jesu's will be done, Honor for all, and infamy for none, This side the borders of the burning lake."

ERIC MACKAY'S _Love-Letters of a Violinist_.

Lord Winsleigh did not move. Sir Philip fixed his eyes upon her in silence. Some occult fascination forced her to meet his glance, and the utter scorn of it stung her proud heart to its centre. Not that she felt much compunction--her whole soul was up in arms against him, and had been so from the very day she was first told of his unexpected marriage.

His evident contempt now irritated her--she was angrier with him than ever, and yet--she had a sort of strange triumph in the petty vengeance she had designed--she had destroyed his happiness for a time, at least.

If she could but shake his belief in his wife! she thought, vindictively. To that end she had thrown out her evil hint respecting Thelma's affection for George Lorimer, but the shaft had been aimed uselessly. Errington knew too well the stainless purity of Thelma to wrong her by the smallest doubt, and he would have staked his life on the loyalty of his friend. Presently he controlled his anger sufficiently to be able to speak, and still eyeing her with that straight, keen look of immeasurable disdain, he said in cold, deliberate accents--

"Your ladyship is in error,--the actress in question is the wife of my secretary, Mr. Neville. For years they have been estranged--my visits to her were entirely on Neville's behalf--my letters to her were all on the same subject. Sir Francis Lennox must have known the truth all along,--Violet Vere has been his mistress for the past five years!"