“Well—that’s just what Charlotte will come to recognize in time. So your course is clear.”
He guided her out through the dining-room, where some poor people and one or two old patients were already waiting.
Delia’s course, in truth, seemed clear enough till, that afternoon, she summoned{148} Charlotte alone to her bedroom. Tina was lying down with a headache: it was in those days the accepted state of young ladies in sentimental dilemmas, and greatly simplified the communion of their elders.
{148}
Delia and Charlotte had exchanged only conventional phrases over their mid-day meal; but Delia still had the sense that her cousin’s decision was final. The events of the previous evening had no doubt confirmed Charlotte’s view that the time had come for such a decision.
Miss Lovell, closing the bedroom door with her dry deliberateness, advanced toward the chintz lounge between the windows.
“You wanted to see me, Delia?”
“Yes.—Oh, don’t sit there,” Mrs. Ralston exclaimed uncontrollably.
Charlotte stared: was it possible that she{149} did not remember the sobs of anguish she had once smothered in those very cushions?
{149}
“Not—?”
“No; come nearer to me. Sometimes I think I’m a little deaf,” Delia nervously explained, pushing a chair up to her own.
“Ah.” Charlotte seated herself. “I hadn’t remarked it. But if you are, it may have saved you from hearing at what hour of the morning Tina came back from the Vandergraves’ last night. She would never forgive herself—inconsiderate as she is—if she thought she’d waked you.”
“She didn’t wake me,” Delia answered. Inwardly she thought: “Charlotte’s mind is made up; I shan’t be able to move her.”
“I suppose Tina enjoyed herself very much at the ball?” she continued.
“Well, she’s paying for it with a head{150}ache. Such excitements are not meant for her, I’ve already told you—”
{150}
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