“What else could I marry?” he asked in a peevish tone. Then, with a change of his voice,—“I don’t want to conceal anything from you; and there is no doubt you must have heard: I was engaged to your sister Con; but she ran away from me,” he added with pathos. “You must have heard that.”
“I do not wonder that you were very fond of her,” cried Frances. “I see no one so delightful as—she would be if she were here.”
She had meant to make a simple statement, and say, “No one so delightful as she;” but paused, remembering that the circumstances had not been to Constance’s advantage, and that here she would have been in her proper sphere.
As for Claude, he was somewhat embarrassed. He said, “Fond is perhaps not exactly the word. I thought she would have suited me—better than any one I knew.”
“If that was all,” said Frances, “you would not mind very much; and I do not wonder that she came away, for it would be rather dreadful to be married because a gentleman thought one suited him.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that would be so—in every case,” cried Claude, with sudden earnestness.
“In any case, I think you should never tell the girl’s sister, Mr Ramsay; it is not a very nice thing to do.”
“Miss Waring—Frances!—I was not thinking of you as any girl’s sister; I was thinking of you——”
“I hope not at all; for it would be a great pity to waste any more thoughts on our family,” said Frances. “I have sometimes been a little vexed that Constance came, for it changed all my life, and took me away from every one I knew. But I am glad you have told me this, for now I understand it quite.” She did not rise from where she was seated and leave him, as he almost hoped she would, making a little quarrel of it, but sat still, with a composure which Claude felt was much less complimentary. “Now that I know all about it,” she said, after a little interval, with a laugh, “I think what you want would be very unreasonable—and what no woman could do.”
“You said the very reverse five minutes ago,” he said sulkily.