"It is of far more importance than business," he replied, with a significance of tone that could not fail to convey some perception of his meaning.
She paused awhile before she spoke again, and then seemed to have arrived at a decision.
"I wish to say a word about your sister."
"Dear Charlotte!" he murmured, and could not have said anything, nor uttered what he said in a tone that would have been more fatal to his cause, even if she were willing to listen to it favorably. He had been his own enemy, and had forged the weapon that was to strike him down; for it was Mrs. Grantham's insight into the life Charlotte must have led with him and her mother that had made her reflect upon the true nature of the man who had been for so many years her husband's friend and her own. The closer intimacy of the last few weeks had served him ill. Mrs. Grantham was a lady of much sweetness, but the trials she had passed through had taught her to observe and sometimes to suspect.
"To-day is Charlotte's birthday," she said.
"Charlotte's birthday!" he exclaimed. "How could we have overlooked it? Charlotte's birthday! Why so it is! I must wish her every happiness." He began to pick some flowers. "For Charlotte," he said.
"She will appreciate them. I have grown very fond of your sister."
"You could not say anything to make me happier--except----"
She nipped his tenderly suggested exception in the bud by continuing:
"She has the most amiable nature in the world--"