My uncle looked at me in expressive silence—walked slowly to the writing-table—and glanced at his wife, in the faint hope that she might change her mind. Their eyes met—and she seemed to recover the command of her temper. She put her hand caressingly on the General’s shoulder.
“I remember the time,” she said, softly, “when any caprice of mine was a command to you. Ah, I was younger then!”
The General’s reception of this little advance was thoroughly characteristic of him. He first kissed Lady Claudia’s hand, and then he wrote the letter. My aunt rewarded him by a look, and left the library.
“What the deuce is the matter with her?” my uncle said to me when we were alone. “Do you dislike the man, too?”
“Certainly not. As far as I can judge, he appears to be just the sort of person we want.”
“And knows thoroughly well how to manage horses, my dear. What can be your aunt’s objection to him?”
As the words passed his lips Lady Claudia opened the library door.
“I am so ashamed of myself,” she said, sweetly. “At my age, I have been behaving like a spoiled child. How good you are to me, General! Let me try to make amends for my misconduct. Will you permit me?”
She took up the General’s letter, without waiting for permission; tore it to pieces, smiling pleasantly all the while; and threw the fragments into the waste-paper basket. “As if you didn’t know better than I do!” she said, kissing him on the forehead. “Engage the man by all means.”
She left the room for the second time. For the second time my uncle looked at me in blank perplexity—and I looked back at him in the same condition of mind. The sound of the luncheon bell was equally a relief to both of us. Not a word more was spoken on the subject of the new groom. His references were verified; and he entered the General’s service in three days’ time.