And nothing Lady Helen could say moved her, or modified her formula of refusal.
'What have you been doing, Hugh?' his sister asked him, half dismayed, half provoked.
Flaxman shrugged his shoulders and vowed he had been doing nothing. But, in truth, he knew very well that the day before he had overstepped the line. There had been a little scene between them, a quick passage of speech, a rash look and gesture on his part, which had been quite unpremeditated, but which had nevertheless transformed their relation. Rose had flushed up, had said a few incoherent words, which he had understood to be words of reproach, had left Lady Helen's as quickly as possible, and next morning his Greenlaws party had fallen through.
'Check, certainly,' said Flaxman to himself ruefully, as he pondered these circumstances—'not mate, I hope, if one can but find out how not to be a fool in future.'
And over his solitary fire he meditated far into the night.
Next day, at half-past seven in the evening, he entered Lady Charlotte's drawing-room, gayer, brisker, more alert than ever.
Rose started visibly at the sight of him, and shot a quick glance at the unblushing Lady Charlotte.
'I thought you were at Greenlaws,' she could not help saying to him, as she coldly offered him her hand. Why had Lady Charlotte never told her he was to escort them? Her irritation rose anew.
'What can one do,' he said lightly, 'if Elsmere will fix such a performance for Easter Eve? My party was at its last gasp too; it only wanted a telegram to Helen to give it its coup de grâce.'
Rose flushed up, but he turned on his heel at once, and began to banter his aunt on the housekeeper's bonnet and veil in which she had a little too obviously disguised herself.