CHAPTER XXXII.
This, the last dinner at Montfitchet, passed more quietly than the rest.
The company were perhaps subdued, from their revels of the night before; and every one hates the thought of breaking up a delightful party and separating on the morrow, even when it has only been a merry gathering like this.
And two people were divinely happy, and two people supremely sad, and one mean little heart was full of bitterness and malice unassuaged.

So after dinner was over, and they were all once more in the white drawing-room, the different elements assorted themselves.
Lady Anningford took Tristram aside and began, with great tact and much feeling, to see if he could be cajoled into a better mood; and finally got severely snubbed for her trouble, which hurt her more because she realized how deep must be his pain than from any offense to herself.
Then Laura caught him and implanted her last sting: "You are going away to-morrow, Tristram,--into your new life--and when you have found out all about your wife--and her handsome friend--you may remember that there was one woman who loved you truly--" and then she moved on and left him sitting there, too raging to move.
After this, his uncle had joined him, had talked politics, and just at the end, for the hearty old gentleman could not believe a man could really be cold or indifferent to as beautiful a piece of flesh and blood as his new niece, he had said: "Tristram, my dear boy,--I don't know whether it is the modern spirit--or not--but, if I were you, I'd be hanged if I would let that divine creature, your wife, out of my sight day or night!--When you get her alone at Wrayth, just kiss her until she can't breathe--and you'll find it is all right!" With which absolutely sensible advice, he had slapped his nephew on the back, fixed in his eyeglass, and walked off; and Tristram had stood there, his blue eyes hollow with pain, and had laughed a bitter laugh, and gone to play bridge, which he loathed, with the Meltons and Mrs.
Harcourt.

So for him, the evening had passed.
And Francis Markrute had taken his niece aside to give her his bit of salutary information.

He wished to get it over as quickly as possible, and had drawn her to a sofa rather behind a screen, where they were not too much observed.
"We have all had a most delightful visit, I am sure, Zara," he had said, "but you and Tristram seem not to be yet as good friends as I could wish." He paused a moment, but as usual she did not speak, so he went on: "There is one thing you might as well know, I believe you have not realized it yet, unless Tristram has told you of it himself." She looked up now, startled--of what was she ignorant then?
"You may remember the afternoon I made the bargain with you about the marriage," Francis Markrute went on.

"Well, that afternoon Tristram, your husband, had refused my offer of you and your fortune with scorn.
He would never wed a rich woman he said, or a woman he did not know or love, for any material gain; but I knew he would think differently when he had seen how beautiful and attractive you were, so I continued to make my plans.