“But, Captain Glen, pray spare us, and spare yourself what must be a very painful declaration, when I tell you that our niece is engaged to be married to Mr Elbraham.”
“Then it is true?”
“Oh yes, perfectly true,” said the Honourable Philippa.
Glen drew a long breath, and sat for some moments silently gazing down at the carpet as if he could not trust himself to speak. When he opened his lips again his voice was changed.
“Am I to understand, madam, that Miss Clotilde Dymcox accepts this Mr—Mr Elbraham of her own free choice and will?”
It required a tremendous effort to get out that name “Elbraham,” but he forced it from his lips at last.
“Captain Glen,” said the Honourable Philippa, rising and darting a very severe glance at her sister because she did not rise as well, “this is presuming upon your position here as an acquaintance—a very casual acquaintance. I cannot discuss this matter with you.”
“As you will, madam,” replied Glen, who felt hot with indignant rage. “May I ask your permission to see Clotilde?”
“To see Miss Clotilde Dymcox?” said the Honourable Philippa, with dignity. “Under the circumstances, I think, sister, certainly not.”
She darted another fierce look at the Honourable Isabella, who was growing weaker and more agitated moment by moment, as she asked herself whether it was possible that, in spite of the disparity of their ages, she might yet try to soothe Marcus Glen’s wounded spirit, and offer him the sympathy of her virgin heart.