CHAPTER X
Clare went directly to her mother’s room. She had hardly spoken again during the few minutes while she had necessarily remained with the Johnstones, climbing the hill back to the hotel. At the door she had stood aside to let Lady Johnstone go in, Sir Adam had followed his wife, and Brook had lingered, doubtless hoping to exchange a few words more with Clare. But she was preoccupied, and had not vouchsafed him a glance.
“They have come,” she said, as she closed Mrs. Bowring’s door behind her.
Her mother was seated by the open window, her hands lying idly in her lap, her face turned away, as Clare entered. She started slightly, and looked round.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Already! Well—it had to come. Have you met?”
Clare told her all that had happened.
“And he said that he was glad?” asked Mrs. Bowring, with the ghost of a smile.
“He said so—yes. His voice was cold. But when he first heard my name and asked about my father his face softened.”
“His face softened,” repeated Mrs. Bowring to herself, just above a whisper, as the ghost of the smile flitted about her pale lips.