I failed to catch her reply. She spoke in a tone of pain and sunk her face in her hand. "Head ache?" I asked. "No." She straightened, and from under her coquettish hat bent upon me such a look as I had never seen. In her eyes, in her tightened lips, and in the lift of her head, was a whole history of hope, pride, pain, resolve, strife, bafflement and defiance. She could not have chosen to betray so much; she must have counted too fully on the shade of her hat-brim. The beautiful frown relaxed into a smile. "No," she repeated, "only an aching conscience. Ever have one?"
In spite of her practice in the conduct of social functions as Lady Mayoress, and her natural aptitude for knowing how to behave suitably, Mrs Keeling had one moment of extremest terror when the Royal Princess came up the steps of the hospital next day, between Keeling and Lord Inverbroom, to where the Lady Mayoress awaited her. Her knees so trembled that though she felt that there would not be the smallest difficulty in sinking down in the curtsey, or indeed in sinking into the earth altogether, she much doubted her power of ever raising herself again, and the gypsophila in the bouquet she was about to present shook so violently that it appeared to be but a gray mist among the daffodils which had been ascertained to be the Princesss favourite flower. She would have liked to run away, but there was nowhere to run to, and indeed the gorgeous heaviness of her satin gown rendered all active locomotion impossible. Then Her Royal Highness shook her hand, thanked her for the beautiful flowers and inhaled the perfume of the scentless daffodils before giving them to her lady-in-waiting to carry, and Mrs Keeling found herself able to say, Your favourite flowers, Your Royal Highness, which broke the spell of her terror. Then followed the declaration that the new wing was open and the tour was made through the empty wards, while Mrs Keeling so swelled with pride and anticipation that she felt that it was she who had been the yet{247} anonymous benefactor. Sometimes she talked to the Princess, sometimes only to Lord Inverbroom, or was even so mindful of her proper place as to drop a condescending word or two to the bishop, whose only locus standi there, so she considered, was that he would presently be permitted to say grace. Lining the big hall and in corridors were the common people of Bracebridge, Mrs Fyson and that class of person, and naturally Mrs Keeling swept by them, as she had swept by the footmen on that pleasant domestic evening at Lady Inverbrooms.
ONE:Frank's practical argument about instinct received the approval of his friends, and then the topic of conversation was changed to something else.
ONE:The trio laughed, the young woman most musically.What about your work at Keelings to-morrow night? he said, if Im not fit to come out? You cant very well go up there alone, can you?
"Certainly; you mean Mrs. Sessions."I pointed to the door he had softly closed behind him: "How is it in there?"I was, but I have reconsidered that. Im going to be busier than ever: let us see which of us can be the busiest. I cant forget, nor can you, but we can leave as little time as possible for remembering.From Chicago westward they traversed the rich prairies of Illinois and Iowaa broad expanse of flat country, which wearied them with its monotony. At Omaha they crossed the Missouri River on a long bridge; and while they were crossing, Frank wrote some lines in his note-book to the effect that the Missouri was the longest river in the world, and was sometimes called the "Big Muddy," on account of its color. It looked[Pg 40] like coffee after milk has been added; and was once said by Senator Benton to be too thick to swim in, but not thick enough to walk on.
