Captain Ackworth came over nearly every day, and had long conversations with Clarice. He urged her--now that she was her own mistress--to marry him forthwith, and be happy, but this she resolutely declined to do. On this very occasion, three weeks after the burial of Henry Horran, the young man was still urging, and Clarice was still refusing.
"Dear," she said to her lover, "I have my duty to perform towards Ferdy."
Anthony, who was walking up and down the long drawing-room, uttered an angry growl. "Why should you make yourself miserable over that silly boy?" he demanded, crossly.
"Just because he is a silly boy and my brother. Wait until he is married to Prudence, and then I'll become your wife, whenever you like, my dear. I'm sure," added Clarice, with a sigh, "I would give anything to marry you now, and be happy."
"That rests with yourself," said Anthony, coming to the sofa and putting his arm round her waist. "Clarice, you suffer too much from a very aggressive conscience."
"All the better for our married life," said the girl, gaily, "think how anxious I shall be to please my fireside tyrant."
"I am afraid you will be the tyrant, dearest. See how unable I am to make you do what I want."
"Because it would not be right, Anthony. I wish to settle all things connected with the past before I begin a new life with you."
"I fancied--according to your own way of putting it--that the new epoch had begun," joked Ackworth.
"It has, and it has not. My new epoch begins with my marriage to you, darling, and the old epoch ended with Uncle Henry's death. This is a kind of interregnum--"