Plain Tales from the Hills | Page 6

sweetest manners in the world.
You had only to mention her name at afternoon teas for every woman
in the room to rise up, and call her--well--NOT blessed. She was clever,
witty, brilliant, and sparkling beyond most of her kind; but possessed of
many devils of malice and mischievousness. She could be nice, though,
even to her own sex. But that is another story.
Bremmil went off at score after the baby's death and the general
discomfort that followed, and Mrs. Hauksbee annexed him. She took
no pleasure in hiding her captives. She annexed him publicly, and saw
that the public saw it. He rode with her, and walked with her, and
talked with her, and picnicked with her, and tiffined at Peliti's with her,
till people put up their eyebrows and said: "Shocking!" Mrs. Bremmil
stayed at home turning over the dead baby's frocks and crying into the
empty cradle. She did not care to do anything else. But some eight dear,
affectionate lady- friends explained the situation at length to her in case
she should miss the cream of it. Mrs. Bremmil listened quietly, and

thanked them for their good offices. She was not as clever as Mrs.
Hauksbee, but she was no fool. She kept her own counsel, and did not
speak to Bremmil of what she had heard. This is worth remembering.
Speaking to, or crying over, a husband never did any good yet.
When Bremmil was at home, which was not often, he was more
affectionate than usual; and that showed his hand. The affection was
forced partly to soothe his own conscience and partly to soothe Mrs.
Bremmil. It failed in both regards.
Then "the A.-D.-C. in Waiting was commanded by Their Excellencies,
Lord and Lady Lytton, to invite Mr. and Mrs. Cusack-Bremmil to
Peterhoff on July 26th at 9.30 P. M."--"Dancing" in the bottom-
left-hand corner.
"I can't go," said Mrs. Bremmil, "it is too soon after poor little
Florrie . . . but it need not stop you, Tom."
She meant what she said then, and Bremmil said that he would go just
to put in an appearance. Here he spoke the thing which was not; and
Mrs. Bremmil knew it. She guessed--a woman's guess is much more
accurate than a man's certainty--that he had meant to go from the first,
and with Mrs. Hauksbee. She sat down to think, and the outcome of her
thoughts was that the memory of a dead child was worth considerably
less than the affections of a living husband. She made her plan and
staked her all upon it. In that hour she discovered that she knew Tom
Bremmil thoroughly, and this knowledge she acted on.
"Tom," said she, "I shall be dining out at the Longmores' on the
evening of the 26th. You'd better dine at the club."
This saved Bremmil from making an excuse to get away and dine with
Mrs. Hauksbee, so he was grateful, and felt small and mean at the same
time--which was wholesome. Bremmil left the house at five for a ride.
About half-past five in the evening a large leather- covered basket came
in from Phelps' for Mrs. Bremmil. She was a woman who knew how to
dress; and she had not spent a week on designing that dress and having
it gored, and hemmed, and herring- boned, and tucked and rucked (or
whatever the terms are) for nothing. It was a gorgeous dress--slight
mourning. I can't describe it, but it was what The Queen calls "a
creation"--a thing that hit you straight between the eyes and made you
gasp. She had not much heart for what she was going to do; but as she
glanced at the long mirror she had the satisfaction of knowing that she

had never looked so well in her life. She was a large blonde and, when
she chose, carried herself superbly.
After the dinner at the Longmores, she went on to the dance--a little
late--and encountered Bremmil with Mrs. Hauksbee on his arm. That
made her flush, and as the men crowded round her for dances she
looked magnificent. She filled up all her dances except three, and those
she left blank. Mrs. Hauksbee caught her eye once; and she knew it was
war--real war--between them. She started handicapped in the struggle,
for she had ordered Bremmil about just the least little bit in the world
too much; and he was beginning to resent it. Moreover, he had never
seen his wife look so lovely. He stared at her from doorways, and
glared at her from passages as she went about with her partners; and the
more he stared, the more taken was he. He could scarcely believe that
this was the woman with the red eyes and the black stuff gown who
used