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Page 27
The people at home took the slap very soberly; indeed,
there were few left for her to give it to. The Herritons
were out of the question; they would not even let her write
to Irma, though Irma was occasionally allowed to write to
her. Mrs. Theobald was rapidly subsiding into dotage, and,
as far as she could be definite about anything, had
definitely sided with the Herritons. And Miss Abbott did
likewise. Night after night did Lilia curse this false
friend, who had agreed with her that the marriage would
"do," and that the Herritons would come round to it, and
then, at the first hint of opposition, had fled back to
England shrieking and distraught. Miss Abbott headed the
long list of those who should never be written to, and who
should never be forgiven. Almost the only person who was
not on that list was Mr. Kingcroft, who had unexpectedly
sent an affectionate and inquiring letter. He was quite
sure never to cross the Channel, and Lilia drew freely on
her fancy in the reply.
At first she had seen a few English people, for
Monteriano was not the end of the earth. One or two
inquisitive ladies, who had heard at home of her quarrel
with the Herritons, came to call. She was very sprightly,
and they thought her quite unconventional, and Gino a
charming boy, so all that was to the good. But by May the
season, such as it was, had finished, and there would be no
one till next spring. As Mrs. Herriton had often observed,
Lilia had no resources. She did not like music, or reading,
or work. Her one qualification for life was rather blowsy
high spirits, which turned querulous or boisterous according
to circumstances. She was not obedient, but she was
cowardly, and in the most gentle way, which Mrs. Herriton
might have envied, Gino made her do what he wanted. At
first it had been rather fun to let him get the upper hand.
But it was galling to discover that he could not do
otherwise. He had a good strong will when he chose to use
it, and would not have had the least scruple in using bolts
and locks to put it into effect. There was plenty of
brutality deep down in him, and one day Lilia nearly touched
it.
It was the old question of going out alone.
"I always do it in England."
"This is Italy."
"Yes, but I'm older than you, and I'll settle."
"I am your husband," he said, smiling. They had
finished their mid-day meal, and he wanted to go and sleep.
Nothing would rouse him up, until at last Lilia, getting
more and more angry, said, "And I've got the money."
He looked horrified.
Now was the moment to assert herself. She made the
statement again. He got up from his chair.
"And you'd better mend your manners," she continued,
"for you'd find it awkward if I stopped drawing cheques."
She was no reader of character, but she quickly became
alarmed. As she said to Perfetta afterwards, "None of his
clothes seemed to fit--too big in one place, too small in
another." His figure rather than his face altered, the
shoulders falling forward till his coat wrinkled across the
back and pulled away from his wrists. He seemed all arms.
He edged round the table to where she was sitting, and she
sprang away and held the chair between them, too frightened
to speak or to move. He looked at her with round,
expressionless eyes, and slowly stretched out his left hand.
Perfetta was heard coming up from the kitchen. It
seemed to wake him up, and he turned away and went to his
room without a word.
"What has happened?" cried Lilia, nearly fainting. "He
is ill--ill."
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