"Well, I—I hardly know whether you will care much to hear it."
"Probably not. I should like to, for all that."
"He is married."
Adela looked up with a start, and her colour faded. "Married?"
"He is. He has married his cousin, a Miss Stanley, and it is said they have long been attached to each other. He was a frightful flirt, but he had no heart; I always said it; and I think he was not a good man in other respects."
The news brought a pang of mortification to Adela; perhaps a deeper pang than that. Some eighteen months back, she saw a good deal of this Captain Stanley; it was thought by shrewd observers that she had lost her heart to him. If so, it was now thrown back upon her.
And, whether it might have been this, or whether it was the persistent persuasion of her father and mother, ay, and of her sisters, Adela Chenevix consented to accept Mr. Grubb. But she bitterly resented the necessity, and from that hour she deliberately steeled her heart against him.
Daintily she swept into the room for her first interview with him. He stood in agitation at its upper end—a fine, intellectual man; one, young though he was, to be venerated and loved. She wore a pink-and-white silk dress, and her hair had pink and white roses in it; for Mr. Grubb had come to dinner, and she was already dressed for it. A rich colour shone in her cheeks, her beautiful eyes and features were lighted up with it, and her delicate figure was thrown back—in disdain. Oh, that he could have read it then!
He never afterwards quite remembered what he said when he approached her. He knew he took her hand. And he believed he whispered words of thanks.
"They are not due to me," was her answer, delivered with cold equanimity. "My father tells me I must marry you, and I accede to it."