She could scarcely be said to be of sound mind, for her imagination was uncontrollable, and she gave herself away wildly to day dreams.
She was deeply in love but would not confess it, yet, as Charles had never declared his passion, she began to doubt if his apparent fondness was genuine, and whether it might not dwindle away into mere flirtation.
She paid particular attention to her toilet, and resorted to every means in her power to dispel the sorrow, care, and anxiety which of late had possessed him, and made his face so pale, careworn, and sad.
She played and sang more charmingly than ever, and always selected the most lively airs.
Yet all her gaiety seemed to have no power over him.
She began to imagine that Miss Josephine Smith next door, or some unknown lady, had snatched him from her, and that both Dame Worthington and Sir Richard Warbeck were fully cognizant of the fact.
The result of all her imaginings tended to make Clara languid in manner and much depressed in spirit.
She began to look upon the good old dame with distrust, and seldom spoke to any one.
Her appearance in the parlour was seldom.
She had no taste or inclination for gay society, and sought retirement.