Love at Second Sight | Page 9

haven't met him yet,' Madame Frabelle said; 'but isn't there a name I
hear very often? Your husband is always talking about him; he told me
I was to make the acquaintance of this great friend of his. Something
tells me it is he. I shall know as soon as I see him. You can't hide it
from me!'
Who was the person Bruce was always mentioning to Madame Frabelle?
Certainly not Aylmer Ross--he had apparently forgotten his existence.
'Are you referring to--?'
Madame Frabelle looked out of the window and nodded.
'Yes--Mr Mitchell!'
Edith started, and a smile curved her lips.
'It's always the husband's great friend, unfortunately,' sighed Eglantine.
'Oh, my dear' (with the usual cheap, ready-made knowingness of the
cynic), 'I've seen so much of that. Now I'm going to help you. I'm

determined to leave you two dear, charming people without a cloud,
when I go.'
'You're not thinking of going?'
'Not yet ... no. Not while you let me stay here, dear. I've friends in
London, and in the country, but I haven't looked them up, or written to
them, or done anything since I've been here. I've been too happy. I
couldn't be bothered. I am so interested in you! Another thing--may I
say?--for I feel as if I'd known you for years. You think your husband
doesn't know it. You are wrong.'
'Am I really?'
'Quite. Last night a certain look when he spoke of the Mitchells showed
me that Bruce is terribly jealous. He doesn't show it, but he is.'
'But--Mrs Mitchell?' suggested Edith. 'She's one of our best friends--a
dear thing. By the way, we're asking them to dine with us on Tuesday.'
'I'm delighted to hear it. I shall understand everything then. Isn't it
curious--without even seeing them--that I know all about it? I think I've
a touch of second sight.'
'But, Eglantine, aren't you going a little far? Hadn't you better wait until
you've seen them, at least. You've no idea how well the Mitchells get
on.'
'I've no doubt of it,' she replied, 'and, of course, I don't know that
he--Mr Mitchell, I mean--even realises what you are to him. But I do!'
Edith was really impressed at the dash with which Madame Frabelle so
broadly handled this vague theme.
'Wait till you do see them,' she said, rather mischievously, declining to
deny her friend's suggestion altogether.
'Odd I should have guessed it, isn't it?' Madame Frabelle was evidently
pleased. 'You'll admit this, Edith, from what your husband says I gather

you see each other continually, don't you?'
'Very often.'
'Bruce and he are together at the Foreign Office. Bruce thinks much of
him, and admires him. With it all I notice now and then a tinge of
bitterness in the way he speaks. He was describing their fancy-dress
ball to me the other day, and really his description of Mr Mitchell's
costume would have been almost spiteful in any other man.'
'Well, but Mr Mitchell is over sixty. And he was got up as a black
poodle.'
'Yes; quite so. But he's a fine-looking man, isn't he? And very pleasant
and hospitable?'
'Oh yes, of course.'
'On your birthday last week that magnificent basket of flowers came
from Mr Mitchell,' stated Eglantine.
'Certainly; from the Mitchells rather. But, really, that's nothing. I think
you'll be a little disappointed if you think he's at all of the romantic
type.'
'I didn't think that,' she answered, though of course she had; 'but
something told me--I don't know why--that there's some strange
attraction.... I never saw a more perfect wife than you, nor a more
perfect mother. But these things should be nipped in the bud, dear.
They get hold of you sometimes before you know where you are. And
think,' she went on with relish, 'how terrible it would be practically to
break up two homes!'
'Oh, really, I must stop you there,' cried Edith. 'You don't think of
elopements, do you?'
'I don't say that, necessarily. But I've seen a great deal of life. I've lived
everywhere, and just the very households--ménages, as we say

abroad--that seem most calm and peaceful, sometimes--It would be,
anyhow, very dreadful, wouldn't it--to live a double life?'
Edith thought her friend rather enjoyed the idea, but she said:
'You don't imagine, I hope, that there's anything in the nature of an
intrigue going on between me and Mr Mitchell?'
'No, no, no--not now--not yet--but you don't quite know, Edith, how
one can be carried away. As I was sitting up in my room--thinking--'
'You think too much,' interrupted Edith.
'Perhaps so--but it came to me like this. I mean to be the one to put
things right again, if I can. My dear child, a woman of the world like
myself sees things. You two