Love at Second Sight | Page 8

Delicacy about what?
It was an effort not to laugh; but, oddly enough, it was also an effort
not to feel secretly miserable. She wondered, though, what she was
unhappy about. She need not have troubled, for Madame Frabelle was
quite willing to tell her. She was, indeed, willing to tell anyone
anything. Perhaps that was the secret of her charm.
CHAPTER IV
It was utterly impossible, literally out of the question, that Madame
Frabelle could know anything about the one trouble, the one danger,
that so narrowly escaped being almost a tragedy, in Edith's life.
It was three years since Bruce, always inclined to vague, mild
flirtations, had been positively carried off his feet, and literally taken
away by a determined young art student, with red hair, who had failed
to marry a friend of his. While Edith, with the children, was passing the
summer holidays at Westgate, Bruce had sent her the strangest of
letters, informing her that he and Mavis Argles could not live without
one another, and had gone to Australia together, and imploring her to
divorce him. The complication was increased by the fact that at that
particular moment the most charming man Edith had ever met, Aylmer
Ross, that eloquent and brilliant barrister, had fallen in love with her,
and she had become considerably attracted to him. Her pride had been
hurt at Bruce's conduct, but she had certainly felt it less bitterly, in one
way, because she was herself so much fascinated by Aylmer and his
devotion.
* * * * *
But Edith had behaved with cool courage and real unselfishness. She
felt certain that Brace's mania would not last, and that if it did he would
be miserable. Strangely, then, she had declined to divorce him, and
waited. Her prophecy turned out correct, and by the time they arrived at
their journey's end the red-haired lady was engaged to a commercial

traveller whom she met on the boat. By then Bruce and she were
equally convinced that in going to Australia they had decidedly gone
too far.
* * * * *
So Brace came back, and Edith forgave him. She made one condition
only (which was also her one revenge), that he should never speak
about it, never mention the subject again.
Aylmer Ross, who had taken his romance seriously to heart, refused to
be kept as l'ami de la maison, and as a platonic admirer. Deeply
disappointed--for he was prepared to give his life to Edith and her
children (he was a widower of independent means)--he had left
England; she had never seen him since.
All this had been a real event, a real break in Edith's life. For the first
few months after she suffered, missing the excitement of Aylmer's
controlled passion, and his congenial society. Gradually she made
herself--not forget it--but put aside, ignore the whole incident. It gave
her genuine satisfaction to know that she had made a sacrifice for
Bruce's sake. She was aware that he could not exist really satisfactorily
without her, though perhaps he didn't know it. He needed her. At first
she had endeavoured to remain separated from him, while apparently
living together, from who knows what feeling of romantic fidelity to
Aylmer, or pique at the slight shown her by her husband. Then she
found that impossible. It would make him more liable to other
complications and the whole situation too full of general difficulties. So
now, for the last three years, they had been on much the same terms as
they were before. Bruce had become, perhaps, less patronising, more
respectful to her, and she a shade more gentle and considerate to him,
as to a child. For she was generous and did not forgive by halves. There
were moments of nervous irritation, of course, and of sentimental regret.
On the whole, though, Edith was glad she had acted as she did. But if
occasionally she felt her life a little dull and flat, if she missed some of
the excitement of that eventful year, it was impossible for anyone to see
it by her manner.

What could Madame Frabelle possibly know about it? What did that
lady really suppose was the matter?
* * * * *
'What do you think I'm unhappy about?' Edith repeated.
Madame Frabelle, as has been mentioned, was willing to tell her. She
told her, as usual, with fluency and inaccuracy.
Edith was much amused to find how strangely mistaken was this
authoritative lady as to her intuitions, how inevitably à faux with her
penetrations and her instinctive guesses. Madame Frabelle said that she
believed Edith was beginning to feel the dawn of love for someone, and
was struggling against it. (The struggle of course in reality had long
been over.)
Who was the person?
'I