The man retired, and directly a light voice and the flutter of a pretty muslin dress came through the outer room.
“Where are you, my beautiful mamma that is to be? Oh, Claude, I did not expect to find you here,” cried the golden-haired beauty, turning her deep blue eyes upon him. “Wait one moment, while I kiss your mother.”
Down she fell upon her knees, winding one arm around Mrs. La Clide, and holding up her rosebud mouth for a kiss, which the elder lady gave her very gravely.
“There, now!”
She started up, drew the perfumed glove from her hand, and held it toward him, glowing from its imprisonment.
“What, you will not take my hand?” she cried, turning away to use the hand in smoothing the braids of her hair. “Never mind; it isn’t a butterfly, to settle twice in the same spot;” and, with a careless movement of the head, she ran for a cushion and sat down at Mrs. La Clide’s feet. “Oh, my sweet, black-eyed mamma, how I have longed to see you,” she said, in a sweet, caressing whisper.
“I have always been at home to you, Ellen,” was the somewhat cold reply.
“But I have been so busy. Claude, I say, angry yet? What is it all about?”
She held out her hand again, glancing at him a little anxiously from under her long lashes. No ordinary man could have withstood that look, the creature was so lovely in her rich health and graceful position.
“Don’t be cross, Claude. Only think, I haven’t seen you in three whole days. How can you treat me so cavalierly?” she pleaded, a little frightened by his persistent coldness.