It was doubtless owing to Mrs. Fairford’s foresight
that such possibilities of tension were curtailed,
after dinner, by her carrying off Ralph and his betrothed
to the theatre.
Mr. Dagonet, it was understood, always went to bed
after an hour’s whist with his daughter; and
the silent Mr. Fairford gave his evenings to bridge
at his club. The party, therefore, consisted only
of Undine and Ralph, with Mrs. Fairford and her attendant
friend. Undine vaguely wondered why the grave
and grey-haired Mr. Bowen formed so invariable a part
of that lady’s train; but she concluded that
it was the York custom for married ladies to have
gentlemen “’round” (as girls had
in Apex), and that Mr. Bowen was the sole survivor
of Laura Fairford’s earlier triumphs.
She had, however, little time to give to such conjectures,
for the performance they were attending—the
debut of a fashionable London actress—had
attracted a large audience in which Undine immediately
recognized a number of familiar faces. Her engagement
had been announced only the day before, and she had
the delicious sense of being “in all the papers,”
and of focussing countless glances of interest and
curiosity as she swept through the theatre in Mrs.
Fairford’s wake. Their stalls were near
the stage, and progress thither was slow enough to
permit of prolonged enjoyment of this sensation.
Before passing to her place she paused for Ralph to
remove her cloak, and as he lifted it from her shoulders
she heard a lady say behind her: “There
she is—the one in white, with the lovely
back—” and a man answer: “Gad!
Where did he find anything as good as that?”
Anonymous approval was sweet enough; but she was to
taste a moment more exquisite when, in the proscenium
box across the house, she saw Clare Van Degen seated
beside the prim figure of Miss Harriet Ray. “They’re
here to see me with him—they hate it, but
they couldn’t keep away!” She turned and
lifted a smile of possessorship to Ralph. Mrs.
Fairford seemed also struck by the presence Of the
two ladies, and Undine heard her whisper to Mr. Bowen:
“Do you see Clare over there—and Harriet
with her? Harriet would come—I
call it Spartan! And so like Clare to ask her!”
Her companion laughed. “It’s one
of the deepest instincts in human nature. The
murdered are as much given as the murderer to haunting
the scene of the crime.”
Doubtless guessing Ralph’s desire to have Undine
to himself, Mrs. Fairford had sent the girl in first;
and Undine, as she seated herself, was aware that
the occupant of the next stall half turned to her,
as with a vague gesture of recognition. But just
then the curtain rose, and she became absorbed in
the development of the drama, especially as it tended
to display the remarkable toilets which succeeded each
other on the person of its leading lady. Undine,
seated at Ralph Marvell’s side, and feeling
