Clarissa was looking her loveliest, in violet silk, with a good deal of fur about her, and with an air of style and fashion which was new to her, Miss Granger thought. The two young women kissed each other in a formal way, and then Mr. Granger embraced his daughter with some show of affection.
"How lovely the dear old place looks!" cried Clarissa, as the one triumph and glory of her marriage came home to her mind: she was mistress of Arden Court. "Everything is so warm and bright and cheerful, such an improvement upon foreign houses. What a feast of fires and flowers you have prepared to welcome us, Sophia!"
She wished to say something cordial to her step-daughter, and she did really believe that the festive aspect of the house was Miss Granger's work.
"I have not interfered with the servants' arrangements," that young lady replied primly; "I hope you don't find so many exotics oppressive in these hot rooms? I do."
"O dear, no; they are so lovely," answered Clarissa, bending over a pyramid of stephanotis, "one can scarcely have too many of them. Not if the perfume makes your head ache, however; in that case they had better be sent away at once."
But Miss Granger protested against this with an air of meek endurance, and the flowers were left undisturbed.
"Well, Sophy, what have you been doing with yourself all this time?" Mr. Granger asked in a cheerful voice; "gadding about finely, according to your letters."
"I spent a week with the Stapletons, and ten days with the Trevors, and
I went to Scarborough with the Chesneys, as you expressed a wish that I
should accept their invitation, papa," Miss Granger replied dutifully; "but
I really think I am happier at home."
"I'm very glad to hear it, my dear, and I hope you'll find your home pleasanter than ever now.—So you like the look of the old place, do you, Clary?" he went on, turning to his wife; "and you don't think we've quite spoilt it by our renovation?"
"O no, indeed. There can be no doubt as to your improvements. And yet, do you know, I was so fond of the place, that I am almost sorry to miss its old shabbiness—the faded curtains, and the queer Indian furniture which my great-uncle Colonel Radnor, brought home from Bombay. I wonder what became of those curious old cabinets?"