"Well enough, thanks," he returned, a little cooled down, for she did not take the preferred hand which he was tending towards her.
"Are you afraid to shake hands with me?" he asked, half smiling, half vexed.
"My gloves are soiled," replied she, taking off her right hand glove; afterwards shaking hands with him.
"Oh, I see," he said, quite satisfied with the excuse.
In reality, Adèle had not seen the preferred hand; she was busy with her thoughts just then. His manner seemed repulsive to her; she knew not why. She opened the front door and showed him into the parlour. Her father was there, evidently expecting Tom, for he received him with a warmth which he had not shown for a long time. She left them to themselves and was proceeding towards her parterre when her father called out to her.
"What! are you going, Adèle, when Mr. Soher is here; come and keep us company."
The girl retraced her steps. What could her father mean? He had not told her a word about her cousin's visit, and yet, it was evident he was expecting him.
"Where's your violin?" questioned her father.
Adèle fetched the desired instrument. She felt very much like an instrument herself. "Father takes me for a toy," she thought, and then as she looked at the two men engaged in close conversation, a sudden light beamed upon her—he was going to force her into a marriage de raison, as the French call it. Everything had been arranged beforehand.
It was all conjecture on her part, but she felt it to be the truth. The more she thought over it, the more she felt convinced of the fact.