"Left Paris!"
"Yes, only a couple of hours ago." And then Mr. Fairfax went on to tell the story of Austin's departure, making as light of it as he could, and with no word of that letter which had been given him to deliver.
The news was a shock to Clarissa. Very well did she remember what her brother had told her about the probability of his being compelled to "cut Paris." It had come, then, some new disgrace, and banished him from the city he loved—the city in which his talents had won for him a budding reputation, that might have blossomed into fame, if he had only been a wiser and a better man. She heard George Fairfax in silence, her head bowed with shame. This man was her brother, and she loved him so dearly.
"Do you know where they have gone?" she asked at last.
"To Brussels. He may do very well there, no doubt, if he will only keep himself steady—turn his back upon the rackety society he is so fond of—and work honestly at his art. It is a place where they can live more cheaply, too, than they could here."
"I am so sorry they are gone without a word of parting. It must have been very sudden."
"Yes. I believe the necessity for the journey arose quite suddenly; or it may have been hanging over your brother for a long time, and he may have shut his eyes to the fact until the last moment. He is such a fellow for taking things easily. However, he did not enter into explanations with me."
"Poor Austin! What a wretched life!"
Clarissa rose and moved slowly towards the folding-doors. George Fairfax stopped her at the threshold, and quietly closed the door.
"Don't go yet, Clarissa. I want to speak to you."