But thoughts came thick and fast in spite of reason and cool reflection, and the girl sank into a reverie that was far from being a pleasant one.
But what if Trevor Chute had learned to love another!
She bit her lovely nether lip, which was like a scarlet camellia bud, for an instant; her dark eyes flashed, then drooped, and she smiled softly, confidently, and perhaps triumphantly, as she said, half audibly:
'Ah, no—he loves me still; poor Trevor! I saw it in his eyes—I heard it in the cadence of his voice, and I never was mistaken! He loves me still—but to what purpose, to what end?'
Tears started to her eyes; but she crushed her emotion, and, with a quick, impatient little hand, rang for her waiting-maid.
CHAPTER VI.
SIR CARNABY COLLINGWOOD.
Still intent upon his Continental scheme, and somewhat impatiently waiting the arrival of Jerry Vane, Trevor Chute was idling over a late breakfast, so full of thoughts—sweet, regretful, and angry thoughts—of Clare Collingwood that he seemed like one in a dream.
It was nearly noon. The sun of May was bathing in light the leafy foliage of the Green Park, and throwing its shadows darkly and strongly on the green below; while the far extent of the lofty street seemed all aglow and quivering in the sunshine.
How fair and fresh the world looked, and yet, since his last interview with Clare, everything seemed indistinct and unusual to his senses.