"Have I not tried to the best of my ability? You know how your mother met my overtures. She received me kindly enough when I called, but she was careful not to let fall a word which could be construed into an invitation to repeat the visit. I cannot force myself into a house where I am clearly told that my presence is not wanted."
A slight frown gathered on the young lady's fair brow.
"That was not mamma's fault. She would have welcomed you now as willingly as formerly. It was my guardian who prevented her inviting you. I got mamma to tell him of your call, and of our previous acquaintance, because I----"
"Because you dared not."
"I dare anything that is possible," asserted Gabrielle, with some irritation; "but to hold out under Uncle Arno's look, when one has anything to conceal from him, is just impossible, and it is of no use attempting it. Well, he pronounced most decidedly against the intended invitation. No personal offence to you was meant, for, of course, he has not the faintest suspicion of any understanding between us; but he will not allow any intercourse between us and the younger officials employed in his bureaux--so we had to submit."
"I was sure of it," said George. "I know my chief. He and his must remain inaccessible to all whom he considers beneath him. Well, there is this to be said, not even his despotic will can separate us much more completely than we have been separated during the last few weeks. I have never seen you but from a distance, and when, at last, we do meet, as tonight, we are forced to keep up an appearance of coldness and indifference. I have to look on while you are courted and made much of, to see every one able to approach you but myself. I, who have the first and sole right to you, am condemned to silence and the reserve of a stranger. Gabrielle, I can bear it no longer."
Gabrielle raised her eyes to his face. A bewitching smile played round the corners of her dimpled mouth, as she replied:
"I do not think the 'stranger' is so much to be pitied. He knows very well that I am his, and his alone."
"On a ball-night such as this you certainly are not mine," replied George, rather bitterly. "You are given to the gaiety and the dance and the homage paid you on all sides. You belong to anything and everyone rather than to me. All the time that passed before that waltz, I was striving to meet your glance. Surrounded by your admirers, you had no eyes for me."
The reproach struck home, wounding by its very justice; but the young lady was not accustomed to reproaches in this quarter, and she thought it very cruel and unfair that he should try to spoil her pleasure. The smile vanished from her lips, giving way to a most ungracious expression of countenance, and she was about to utter a sharp retort when Lieutenant Wilten appeared in the doorway.