George felt an acute presentiment of evil, and sat down in such a position with regard to the light that he could see Grace’s face better than she could see his.
“What is it?” he asked in a tone of constraint.
The young girl paused a moment, moved in her seat, which she had selected in the corner of a sofa, rested one elbow on the mahogany scroll that rose at the end of the old-fashioned piece of furniture, supported her beautifully moulded chin upon the half-closed fingers of her white hand and gazed upon George with a look of inquiring sympathy. There was nothing of nervousness nor timidity in Grace Fearing’s nature. She knew what she was going to do and she meant to do it thoroughly, calmly, pitilessly if necessary.
“My sister has asked me to talk with you,” she began, in her smooth, deep voice. “She is very unhappy and she is not able to bear any more than she has borne already.”
George’s face darkened, for he knew what was coming now, as though it were already said. He opened his lips to speak, but checked himself, reflecting that he did not know the extent of Grace’s information.
“I am very, very sorry,” she continued, earnestly. “I need not explain matters. I know all that has happened. Constance was to have given you a final answer to-day. She could not bear to do so herself.”
Grace paused an instant, and if George had been less agitated than he was, he would have seen that her full lips curled a little as she spoke the last words.
“She has thought it all over,” she concluded. “She does not love you, and she can never be your wife.”
There was a long pause. Grace changed her position, leaning far back among the cushions and clasping her hands upon her knees. At the same time she ceased to look at the young man’s face, and let her sight wander to the various objects on the other side of the room.
In the first moment, George’s heart stood still. Then it began to beat furiously, though it seemed as though its pulsations had lost the power of propelling the blood from its central seat. He kept his position, motionless and outwardly calm, but his dark face grew slowly white, leaving only black circles about his gleaming eyes, and his scornful mouth gradually set itself like stone. He was silent, for no words suggested themselves to his lips, now, though they had seemed too ready a moment earlier.