He was to marry Angela Vivian; that was a
very simple fact--it needed no explanation. Was it so wonderful, so
inconceivable, an incident so unlikely to happen? He went, as he always
did on Sunday, to dine with Mrs. Vivian, and it seemed to him that he
perceived in the two ladies some symptoms of a discomposure which had
the same origin as his own. Bernard, on this occasion, at dinner, failed
to make himself particularly agreeable; he ate fast--as if he had no
idea what he was eating, and talked little; every now and then his
eyes rested for some time upon Angela, with a strange, eagerly excited
expression, as if he were looking her over and trying to make up his
mind about her afresh. This young lady bore his inscrutable scrutiny
with a deal of superficial composure; but she was also silent, and she
returned his gaze, from time to time, with an air of unusual anxiety.
She was thinking, of course, of Gordon, Bernard said to himself; and a
woman's first meeting, in after years, with an ex-lover must always make
a certain impression upon her. Gordon, however, had never been a
lover, and if Bernard noted Angela's gravity it was not because he felt
jealous. "She is simply sorry for him," he said to himself; and by the
time he had finished his dinner it began to come back to him that he
was sorry, too.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278