“It helps me to see that we may find Miss Brent useful as a friend.”
“A friend?”
“An ally.” She paused, as if searching for a word. “She may restore the equilibrium.”
Mr. Langhope’s handsome face darkened. “Open Bessy’s eyes to Amherst? Damn him!” he said quietly.
hirs. Ansell let the imprecation pass. “When was he last here?” she asked.
“Five or six weeks ago—for one night. His only visit since she came back from the Adirondacks.”
“What do you think his motive is? He must know what he risks in losing his hold on Bessy.”
“His motive? With your eye for them, can you ask? A devouring ambition, that’s all! Haven’t you noticed that, in all except the biggest minds, ambition takes the form of wanting to command where one has had to obey? Amherst has been made to toe the line at Westmore, and now he wants Truscomb—yes, and Halford Gaines, too!——to do the same. That’s the secret of his servant-of-the—people pose—gad, I believe it’s the whole secret of his marriage! He’s devouring my daughter’s substance to pay off an old score against the mills. He’ll never rest till he has Truscomb out, and some creature of his own in command—and then, vogue la galère! If it were women, now,” Mr. Langhope
summed up impatiently, “one could understand it, at
[ 215 ]
