“Yes. Paris, of course?”
“Oh yes, we went to Paris and Berlin, and then through Switzerland, I believe; but it was all one miserable dream.”
She had spoken almost loudly, and the blood mounted to the young officer’s cheeks as he again wondered whether her words had been heard. But he need not have been uneasy, for those nearest were intent upon their plates or upon each other.
“You are very angry with me,” said Clotilde suddenly; and for a moment he caught her eye, and asked himself directly after whether Marie had seen that glance, which she had, and suffered a raging pang.
“Angry? No,” said Glen lightly, “why should I be angry, Mrs Elbraham? Surely a lady has a right to make her own choice. I was a competitor; and an unfortunate one.”
“Do you think you were unfortunate?” asked Clotilde eagerly.
“As unfortunate as you were favoured; why, my dear Mrs Elbraham, you are here the mistress of a palace. Had I had my way, you would have been condemned to share some shabby barrack-lodging. Hence I congratulate you.”
“Ah!”
Glen’s face flushed more and more. It might have been from the long-drawn, half-despairing sigh on his left; or the champagne, of which he pretty freely partook in his excitement, might have been answerable for his heightened colour, but certainly he did not go the way to diminish it, for he drained the glass at his side again and again, dashing off into a hurried conversation and talking brightly and well, till he heard a fresh sigh upon his left, and encountered another glance from his hostess’s large dark eyes—a look full of reproach and appeal.
This time Glen smiled. The wine was working, and he saw matters from another point of view.