"
CHAPTER XXXV. ENGAGED
Well, there's the game. I throw the stakes.
Lady Cantourne was sitting alone in her drawing-room, and the
expression of her usually bright and smiling face betokened
considerable perturbation.
Truth to tell, there were not many things in life that had power to
frighten her ladyship very much. Hers had been a prosperous life as
prosperity is reckoned. She had married a rich man who had retained
his riches while he lived and had left them to her when he died.
And that was all the world knew of Lady Cantourne. Like the
majority of us, she presented her character and not herself to her
neighbours; and these held, as neighbours do, that the cheery,
capable little woman of the world whom they met everywhere was Lady
Cantourne. Circumstances alter us less than we think. If we are of
a gay temperament--gay we shall be through all. If sombre, no
happiness can drive that sombreness away. Lady Cantourne was meant
for happiness and a joyous motherhood. She had had neither; but she
went on being "meant" until the end--that is to say, she was still
cheery and capable. She had thrown an open letter on the little
table at her side--a letter from Jack Meredith announcing his return
to England, and his natural desire to call and pay his respects in
the course of the afternoon.
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