The young girl scarcely knew what to think. She glanced at her uncle as if to enlighten herself.
He was not looking at her; indeed, he seemed to avoid her glance purposely, and a moody frown was fixed upon his brow. Her aunt vouchsafed her a cold, unmeaning stare, and Felise Herbert's large black eyes dilated as she looked at Bonnibel as if with gratified malice.
These two ladies, mother and daughter, deserve more than a passing mention at our hands. We will briefly describe them. Mrs. Arnold was a fine-looking brunette of about forty-five, and would have been rather handsome but for a settled expression of peevishness and discontent that rested upon her features. She was elaborately dressed in a soft summer silk of silver-gray trimmed in black lace, and wore very rich cameo jewelry.
Miss Herbert was a younger and handsomer copy of her mother. She was tall and well-formed, with quite regular features, large black eyes, and silky braids of black hair. She was about twenty-five years old, and was becomingly dressed in a thin black grenadine, richly trimmed with satin of the color of old gold. Her ornaments were necklace, earrings, and bracelets of gold. Mr. Arnold could not complain of the beauty of his household, though his tastes in that particular were extremely refined.
"Bonnibel," he said, when the dinner which had been discussed in most unusual silence was over, "come with me into the library. I have something to say to you."
Bonnibel linked her arm fondly in his and they passed out together.
Miss Herbert looked at her mother, and a glance of great significance passed between them, the expression of discontent on the elder lady's features now deepening to positive anger and hatred.
"Yes," she said, as if answering her daughter's look; "go and hear what he has to say to the little witch!"
Miss Herbert arose and passed out of the room with soft, subdued footfalls.
Mrs. Arnold paced the floor restlessly, clenching her white hands angrily.