"To-morrow night!" she repeated. "Mr. Barnard, are you ready?"
As she looked round for her cavalier, Serracauld stepped softly to her side.
"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "you will not discard my uncle's gondola? He is waiting to know if we may convey you home."
She looked up at him with a faint suggestion of coldness and distrust. Then, across the silence of her indecision, the low notes of the Venetian night music broke forth again, as the musicians' gondola passed the Palazzo Ugochini on its way homeward. For one moment it seemed to sweep across the salon through the open windows; then it faded into the distance, as the boat passed on up the canal. At the sound, Clodagh's face involuntarily softened, her lips parted, and she smiled.
"Very well!" she acquiesced below her breath. "Tell Lord Deerehurst that he may take me home."
CHAPTER VII
During the night that followed, Clodagh's excited thoughts scarcely permitted her to sleep; but with that extraordinary reserve of strength that springs from the combination of youth and health, she rose next morning as fresh and untired as though she had enjoyed unbroken rest.
Coming downstairs at half-past eight, the first person she encountered was Milbanke, entering the hotel from the terrace. And spurred by her own exuberant spirits, roused to a sense of general good-will by her own rosy outlook upon life, she went quickly forward to greet him.
"Good-morning, James!" she said. "I hope you haven't been tiring yourself."
It struck her as an after impression that he looked slightly worn and fatigued.