“Cold cream!” suggested Assunta, “since you will use such pharmaceutical comparisons. And now, if I have shocked your sense of refinement sufficiently, I must say good-night.”
“Good-night, dear child,” returned her guardian cordially, but his next thought was a bitter one, and an almost prophetic feeling of loneliness came over him, as he watched the smoke curling up from his cigar.
As soon as the incubus of Mr. Carlisle's presence was removed, Mr. Sinclair threw off the silence which was so unnatural to him, and became at once the attentive, gallant man of the world. Even Assunta, had she met him then for the first time, would not have received that impression of insincerity which had repelled her formerly. She could hardly wonder to-night that Clara Grey, who never looked below the surface, or cared, so long as peace reigned on the outside, what elements of disturbance might be working in the depths, should have suffered her heart to confide itself to the keeping of one apparently so devoted. She had never before imagined that they were so well suited to each other; and as Mr. Sinclair, after an hour, arose to take his leave, she was surprised into most unusual cordiality, as she bade him good-night. But, unfortunately for the impression he had been at such pains to produce, the glamour of fascination disappeared with his retreating footsteps; so that even while Mr. Sinclair was congratulating himself upon his success, Assunta found herself wondering at the almost painful revulsion of feeling which followed his departure.
Mrs. Grey's bright face indicated no such change. She was perfectly satisfied with her lover, and no less so with herself. She checked a movement of Assunta's to retire by saying:
“Do you mind waiting a little longer, dear? I want so much to have a quiet chat. Come, let us draw our chairs up to the fire, the blaze is so cheering.”
“You do not look as if you needed [pg 243] any help from outside influences,” said Assunta, and there was a shade of sadness in her tone. “But I am all ready for a talk.”
A cloud—a light summer one—overspread Mrs. Grey's clear sky and shadowed her face, as she said, after a pause: “Assunta, why does Severn dislike George so much?”
Assunta was too truthful to deny the fact, so she simply said:
“We cannot always control our feelings, Clara; but, as a general thing, I do not find Mr. Carlisle unreasonable.”
“He certainly is very unreasonable in this case,” returned Mrs. Grey quickly, “and I am sorry it is so, for I love Severn very much. Still, I shall not allow an unfounded prejudice to stand in the way of my happiness. Assunta, I have promised Mr. Sinclair that I will marry him in September, when we shall be in Paris, on our way to America.”