Something like a faint sound of anger came from Charlotte. It was smothered beneath a sudden cough. No ears heard it save those of the anxious mother; no eyes, save hers, saw the involuntary clenching of the impassive hands. She--Mrs. Darling--sat upright in her chair and turned her eyes in the direction where her daughter's were fixed.
"Did you obtain that information today, Sir Isaac?"
Sir Isaac was again laughing--oh, how much better in health was he now than of yore!--and did not hear the question.
"Are you speaking to me, Mrs. Darling?"
"That information you said you would obtain for me about the conjunction of the trains. Did you do so?"
"Brumm did. I thought he had given you the paper. He has all particulars set down, I know, in black and white. Perhaps he gave it to Miss Rose?"
"Who is taking my name in vain?" cried Rose, looking in, her bright face aglow with mirth.
Mr. St. John had been standing for the last few minutes inside the room, Rose on the threshold. As he talked to her, his eyes had unconsciously rested on the face of Mrs. Carleton; and the strange expression in hers, their look of fierce anger, had struck him with amazement; even the movement of the hands, telling of suppressed pain, was not wholly hidden from him. With a rush and a whirl there came back to his mind certain facts connected with Mrs. Carleton St. John, which had almost faded out of his remembrance. But what could be the cause of her antipathy to Miss Beauclerc? And there was antipathy in those eyes, if he ever read eyes in this world.
It was over directly,--quick as a flash of lightning,--and the relative situations of the parties changed. Georgina Beauclerc came to the table with a light step, as gay and careless as Rose; Sir Isaac followed more slowly, and sat down by Mrs. Carleton.
"You look pleased, my dear," observed Mrs. St. John, glancing up at Georgina.