“Will you take me back into the drawing-room, Lord Henry?” said a voice then that sounded quite strange to all present, and mastering her emotion, but looking deadly pale, Marie suffered Lord Henry to lead her away without one glance at Glen, who stood there feeling as if a hand were constricting his throat.
The next moment Elbraham favoured him with a melodramatic scowl, and marched out with Clotilde’s white arm resting, laden with glittering bracelets, upon his black coat-sleeve, and her face fixed, as if of marble, as she gazed straight before her.
“He will not betray me,” she thought to herself, “and he will forgive me the next time we meet.”
She might have altered her opinion if she had heard his words, though perhaps they would have made her feel more satisfied as regarded her own position.
“Curse the woman for a Jezebel!” cried Glen between his teeth, as he clutched a handful of the rich leafage of a palm and crushed it in his fingers.
“Was ever poor wretch meshed before in such a net? If ever I forgive her this—Well, what is it?”
“Alone!” cried Dick. “I thought I saw Marie come in here while I was dancing.”
“Yes,” said Glen, trying to crush down his emotion; “she did come here, and she is gone.”
“For a tête-à-tête. Curse it all, Glen! you are too bad. Have some honesty in you!”
“Hold your tongue!” said Glen, bringing his hand down fiercely upon the boy’s shoulder, which he clutched with so tremendous a grip that the lad winced and uttered a cry of pain. “Don’t speak to me. Take me back.”