Bernard said to himself
that if he were not in the secret, a spectator would scarcely make the
discovery that Gordon cherished an even very safely tended flame. Angela
Vivian, on her side, was not strikingly responsive. There was nothing
in her deportment to indicate that she was in love with her systematic
suitor. She was perfectly gracious and civil. She smiled in his face
when he shook hands with her; she looked at him and listened when he
talked; she let him stroll beside her in the Lichtenthal Alley; she
read, or appeared to read, the books he lent her, and she decorated
herself with the flowers he offered. She seemed neither bored nor
embarrassed, neither irritated nor oppressed. But it was Bernard's
belief that she took no more pleasure in his attentions than a pretty
girl must always take in any recognition of her charms. "If she 's
not indifferent," he said to himself, "she is, at any rate,
impartial--profoundly impartial."
It was not till the end of a week that Gordon Wright told him exactly
how his business stood with Miss Vivian and what he had reason to expect
and hope--a week during which their relations had been of the happiest
and most comfortable cast, and during which Bernard, rejoicing in
their long walks and talks, in the charming weather, in the beauty and
entertainment of the place, and in other things besides, had not ceased
to congratulate himself on coming to Baden.
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