Then she disappeared into an inner room, and he waited most impatiently for Thea to enter, wondering why she had declined to see his sister with himself.
“It is perplexing—nay, more, it is positively discourteous to treat Edith like this, after the devotion with which my sister nursed her through her long illness in London,” he thought, with rising indignation that grew stronger every moment he waited, for Camille was tardy. Her maid had to make some changes in her toilet before Camille would consent to enter the presence of her old lover.
But at last the rich silken négligée was adjusted to her fancy, and with a throbbing heart and nervous step Camille entered and bowed to her guest.
CHAPTER LXV.
Lord Stuart grasped the back of a chair to steady himself, and stared aghast.
“My lord, I am very happy to meet you. You see I have come back to my own,” said Camille, with her old dazzling smile and radiant glance that he so well remembered.
She had advanced to the center of the beautiful apartment, and was holding out her white, ringed hand to him, but he did not appear to notice it. He only gasped as if she had thrown ice-water over him.
“Are you ill, my lord?” she continued, in her most gracious manner. “Pray be seated. I will ring for wine.”
But he put up his hand with a gesture of dissent, and his pale lips gasped a feeble negative.
Camille’s smile began to fade.