Such were his thoughts as he gazed upon her while she was speaking to her father’s solicitor. She was so beautiful, so very, very beautiful, that the more his eyes perused her fair lineaments, the more deep became his determination not to be shaken off.
But she never turned her eyes towards him; and when, by her quietly dropping her share in the conversation, it rested between him and Mr. Charlock, she silently glided from the room.
Had it not been for the presence of Mr. Charlock, Mark would have followed her example; as it was, he spoke but seldom to Vane, who treated him with corresponding carelessness.
It was a relief to Mark when they separated to dress for dinner; and on reassembling, Flora did not appear. She complained of not being well, and they had to proceed without her. Mark confined his observations to Mr. Charlock; and Mr. Wilton, irritated, angry, and feverish, was compelled to keep Vane in countenance as well as he could.
The task was too much for him; and he found himself compelled from weakness to retire to his chamber the moment the cloth was cleared. The solicitor was an abstemious and an early man; and as he was compelled to quit Harleydale for London at an early hour in the morning, he rose from the table almost as soon as the wine was circulated; after a short interview with Mr. Wilton, and obtaining possession of all the valuable legal papers, he retired to rest.
Mark and Vane were thus left alone. A silence of at least ten minutes elapsed. Neither spoke. Several times Vane had cast furtive glances at Mark, and felt convinced he was thinking about him.
Presently, he placed his hand upon the decanter before him, and said—
“A little wine with you would be very agreeable, Mr. Wilton.”
Mark bowed slightly, and sipped his wine.
Again a silence ensued; and soon Mark’s thoughts were far away. Lotte’s quiet, pale, sad face rose up before him, and her thoughtful eyes seemed to be turned appealingly upon him for help and aid.