She returned my gaze with a quiet look, full of mournfulness, and as the minutes flew on, I felt a kind of irritation growing upon me, and that I should be bitterly hurt if she should be weak enough to accept John Lister.
“She will consider it a duty, perhaps,” I thought; “and that she does it to save him, now that he has repented and become a better man.”
My ponderings were brought to an end by the servant bringing in a card, and I rose to go, but she laid her hand upon my arm.
“Going, Antony?” she said.
“Yes,” I replied angrily, and I pointed to the card.
“Sit down, Antony,” she said, smiling; “I wish you to be present.”
“No, no, I would rather not,” I exclaimed.
“I beg that you will stay, Antony,” she said, in a tone of appeal that I could not have disobeyed, and I petulantly threw myself back in a chair, as the door opened, and John Lister was announced.
He came forward eagerly, with extended hands, as Miss Carr rose, but changed colour and bowed stiffly as he saw me.
Recovering himself, however, he took Miss Carr’s extended hand, raised it to his lips, and then drew back as if waiting for me to go.