When the man had bowed and retired, Captain Clifton passed out through the open leaf of the window, into the piazza, and thence down into the lawn, to speak to Frank, who was just entering from the garden with Mrs. Clifton on his arm.
Georgia saw at a glance, that her train of gunpowder had caught, and the magazine had blown up, and her dark, beautiful, demoniac, witching face lighted up with a lurid joy for one unguarded instant, and then all was self-recollection, self-control, and sweet, smooth, serene, alluring glamour.
Bowing deeply to Mrs. Clifton, he said—
“Madam, an unexpected event sends me from Clifton this evening. Pray make my adieus to my uncle and cousin. And permit me to commend my friend here to your hospitable care until such time as he pleases to become my guest at Hardbargain—if, indeed, he will not ride thither with me to-night,” he added, turning to Frank.
Fairfax was too surprised to speak.
Mrs. Clifton, who was not surprised at all, yet affected much interest, said, archly—
“Oh, but we shall see you back very early to-morrow morning!”
“I regret to add, madam, that it is not likely,” he said, with another bow; then turning to Frank, he asked—
“Will you ride with me to-night, Fairfax?”
Frank glanced at the lady on his arm, and then looking rebukingly at Clifton, begged to be excused.