“But, oh, Marie! don’t be angry with me, dear,” cried Ruth, clinging to her; “think a moment. Suppose—suppose you should find out afterwards that you had misjudged Captain Glen.”
“Hush!” cried Marie; and her face looked so fierce and stern that Ruth shrank from her. “Never speak to me again like that. I tell you, it is dead now—my love for him is dead. You insult me by mentioning his name to Lord Henry’s affianced wife.”
Ruth crept back to her to place her arms tenderly round her neck, and nestle in the proud woman’s breast.
“I do love you, Marie,” she said tenderly; “and I pray for your future. May you, dear, be very, very happy!”
“I shall be,” said Marie proudly; “for I am to marry one whom I can esteem, and whom I shall try to love.”
Ruth wept softly upon her cousin’s breast for a few minutes, and then started from her and wiped away her tears, for there were footsteps on the stairs.
The reign of coldness was at an end, and the honourable sisters had their hearts set at rest by the announcement Lord Henry had been making to them below.
He had sat for some time in silence, and the subject was too delicate for the ladies to approach. They had been about to summon Marie to return, but he had smiled, and suggested that she should be left to herself.
Then the Honourable Philippa’s heart had sunk, so had the heart of the Honourable Isabella, whose mind was in a paradoxical state, for she longed to see and hear that Captain Glen was happy; and to have added to his happiness she would have given him Marie’s hand at any moment, but at the same time it made her tremble, and the tears rose to her dim eyes whenever she dwelt upon the possibility of another becoming his wife.
A pause had followed, during which Lord Henry had rested his elbow upon the table and his head upon his hand, and there, with the tears hanging on the lashes of his half-closed eyes, and as if in ignorance of the presence of the sisters, he sat thinking dreamily, and smiling softly at the vacancy before him in the gloomy room.