"Will you wish us joy, Mrs. Polton?"
The squire, Rippleby, and Algy Stanton were round them in an
instant. I kept my place, watching now the face of Trix
Queenborough. She turned first flaming red, then very pale. I
saw her turn to Newhaven and speak one or two urgent, imperative
words to him. Then, drawing herself up to her full height,
she crossed the room to where the group was assembled round Mrs.
Wentworth and Jack Ives.
"What's the matter? What are you saying?" she asked.
Mrs. Wentworth's eyes were modestly cast down, but a smile played
round her mouth. No one spoke for a moment. Then Jack Ives
said:
"Mrs. Wentworth has promised to be my wife, Miss Queenborough."
For a moment, hardly perceptible, Trix hesitated; then, with the
most winning, touching, sweetest smile in the world, she said:
"So you took my advice, and our afternoon walk was not wasted,
after all?"
Mrs. Polton is not used to these fine flights of diplomacy; she
had heard before dinner something of what had actually happened
in the afternoon; and the simple woman positively jumped. Jack
Ives met Trix's scornful eyes full and square.
"Not at all wasted," said he, with a smile. "Not only has
it shown me where my true happiness lies, but it has also given
me a juster idea of the value and sincerity of your regard for
me, Miss Queenborough."
"It is as real, Mr. Ives, as it is sincere," said she.
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