That evening before joining her guests at the usual eight o'clock repast, Maryllia told Cicely Bourne of the disagreeable 'surprise' which had been treacherously contrived for her at Sir Morton Pippitt's tea-party by the unexpected presence of the loathed wooer whom she sought to avoid.
"Margaret Bludlip Courtenay must certainly have known he was to be there,"--she said--"And I think, from her look, Eva Beaulyon knew also. But neither of them gave me a hint. And now if I were to say anything they would only laugh and declare that they 'thought it would be fun.' There's no getting any help or sympathy out of such people. I'm sorry!--but--as usual--I must stand alone."
"I daresay every one of them was in the plot--men and all, if the truth were told!"--burst out Cicely, indignantly--"And Mrs. Fred is at the bottom of the mischief. It's a shame! Your aunt is a brute, Maryllia! I would say so to her face if she were here! She's a calculating, selfish, title-grubbing brute! There! What are you going to do?"
"Nothing!"--and Maryllia looked thoughtfully out of the window at the flaming after-glow of the sunset, bathing all the landscape in a flood of coppery crimson--"I shall just go on as usual. When I go down to dinner presently, I shall not speak of to-day's incident at all. Eva Beaulyon and Margaret Courtenay will expect me to speak of it--and they will be disappointed. If they allude to it, I shall change the subject. And I shall invite Roxmouth and his tame pussy, Mr. Marius Longford, to dinner next week, as guests of Sir Morton Pippitt,--that's all."
Cicely opened her big dark eyes.
"You will actually invite Roxmouth?"
"Of course I will--of course I MUST. I want everyone here to see and understand how absolutely indifferent I am to him."
"They will never see--they will NEVER understand!" said Cicely, shaking her mop of wild hair decisively--"My dear Maryllia, the colder you are to 'ce cher Roxmouth' the more the world will talk! They will say you are merely acting a part. "No woman in her senses, they will swear, would discourage the attentions of a prospective Duke."
"They may say what they like,--they may report me OUT of my senses if they choose!" declared Maryllia, hotly--"I am not a citizeness of the great American Republic that I should sell myself for a title! I have suffered quite enough at the hands of this society sneak, Roxmouth--and I don't intend to suffer any more. His methods are intolerable. There is not a city on the Continent where he has not paid the press to put paragraphs announcing my engagement to him-- and he has done the same thing with every payable paper in London. Aunt Emily has assisted him in this,--she has even written some of the announcements herself, sending them to the papers with my portrait and his, for publication! And because this constantly rumoured and expected marriage does not come off, and because people ask WHY it doesn't come off, the pair of conspirators are reduced to telling lies about me! I almost wish I could get small-pox or some other hideous ailment and become disfigured,--THEN Roxmouth might leave me alone! Perhaps Providence will arrange it in that way."