"Were I to express my real opinion on that head," answered Villiers, "I might grieve you still more than I have already done. A bandage has fallen from my eyes—and I can now understand how necessary an instrument of publicity I have been for your assumed virtues. But, in the name of God! let us argue the point no further; for sincerely—sincerely do I assert my unwillingness to give you additional pain. Pardon me, however, if I declare how impossible it is—how inconsistent it would be—to leave those innocent girls in a dwelling which is visited by such a man as that Sir Henry Courtenay."
"How could you remove them elsewhere, without exposing me, Clarence?" demanded his aunt in an imploring tone. "What explanation can you or I give them, to account in a reasonable manner for the suddenness of such a step?"
Villiers paced the room in an agitated manner.
He knew not how to act.
To leave Adelais and Rosamond in the society of his aunt was repugnant to his high sense of honour and his correct notions of propriety; and whither to remove them he knew not.
He had seen and heard enough at the breakfast-table, to convince him that Mrs. Slingsby had some sinister motive in creating in the mind of Rosamond,—that innocent, artless mind, which was so susceptible of any impressions which a designing woman might choose to make upon it,—a feeling of admiration in favour of the baronet; and although he had to a considerable extent curbed the resentment and the indignation which his aunt's conduct in this respect had aroused within him, still to leave that young maiden any longer within an atmosphere of infection, was impossible! No: he would sooner restore the sisters to their father, and leave to circumstances the realization of his hopes in regard to Adelais!
While he was still deliberating within himself what course to pursue, and while Mrs. Slingsby was anxiously watching him as he paced the room with agitated steps, the servant entered with the morning's newspaper.
Clarence took it from the table in a mechanical manner and glanced his eye over the first page: but his thoughts were too painfully pre-occupied to permit him to entertain, even for an instant, any idea of reading the journal.
No:—it was one of those unwitting actions which we often perform when sorely embarrassed or bewildered,—an action without positive motive and without aim.
But how often do the most trivial deeds exercise a paramount influence over our destinies!