s had been spoken, and he knew also that he
had drawn down her wrath upon his head by his caress. He was man
enough also to feel that he had no right to believe himself to have
been forgiven, because now, in the presence of others, she did not
receive him with a special coldness which would have demanded special
explanation. As it was, the three were all cold. Patience half felt
inclined to go and leave them together. She would have given a finger
off her hand to make Clary happy;--but would it be right to make
Clary happy in such fashion as this? She had thought at first when
she saw her father and Ralph together, that Ralph had spoken of his
love to Sir Thomas, and that Sir Thomas had allowed him to come; but
she soon perceived that this was not the case: and so they walked
about together, each knowing that their intercourse was not as it
always had been, and each feeling powerless to resume an appearance
of composure.

"I have got to go and be at Lady McMarshal's," he said, after having
suffered in this way for a quarter of an hour. "If I did not show
myself there her ladyship would think that I had given over all ideas
of propriety, and that I was a lost sheep past redemption."

"Don't let us keep you if you ought to go," said Clary, with dismal
propriety.

"I think I'll be off. Good-bye, Patience. The new cousin is radiant
in beauty. No one can doubt that. But I don't know whether she is
exactly the sort of girl I admire most. By-the-bye, what do you mean
to do with her?"

"Do with her?" said Patience. "She will live here, of course."

"Just settle down as one of the family? Then, no doubt, I shall see
her again. Good-night, Patience. Good-bye, Clary. I'll just step in
and make my adieux to Sir Thomas and the beauty." This he did;--but
as he went he pressed Clary's hand in a manner that she could but
understand. She did not return the pressure, but she did not resent
it.

"Clarissa," said Patience, when they were together that night, "dear
Clarissa!"

Clary knew that when she was called Clarissa by her sister something
special was meant. "What is it?" she asked. "What are you going to
say now?"

"You know that I am thinking only of your happiness. My darling, he
doesn't mean it."

"How do you know? What right have you to say so? Why am I to be
thought such a fool as not to know what I ought to do?"

"Nobody thinks that you are a fool, Clary. I know how clever you
are,--and how good. But I cannot bear