I trembled when I met Lady Amabel in the hall; she was tying on her bonnet, and coming to meet me.
“Did you see Clarence?” she asked; “his horses have just gone round to the stable.”
Before I could reply, I heard the tread of a spurred and booted heel upon the threshold of the hall-door; Lady Amabel took it for granted Clarence had just dismounted, for she inquired if the General and Captain Walton were following him.
No; Clarence had left them “up to their knees in foolscap” in a government office.
I escaped to my room, shut the door, and began to think.
Those were two wretched hours, which I spent alone on the 18th of January, 18—. I pleaded, with truth, the lady’s excuse for not driving with Lady Amabel to meet Sir Adrian. She took Clarence Fairfax with her in the carriage.
It was dusk when they returned, and a britzska full of visitors followed the General’s equipage. I was at the head of the stairs, when I heard Mrs Rashleigh’s voice; the servants were lighting the lamps. I looked over the banisters, she and two or three other ladies were coming up to arrange their toilette before dinner.
Clarence stood at the foot of the stairs; he was laughing at some bold sally of Mrs Rashleigh’s, for he said, “for shame.”
She had a brilliant bouquet in her hand; she tapped him on the cheek, and he, catching the beautiful hand, drew off the glove, and kissed it.