And she? Did she care for him?--did she love him enough
to make it worth the sacrifice?--was there the least chance of
their ever being happy together? Ah! what lovers' meeting had
that been that had passed between them at his sister's house!
What half-concealed indifference on her side, what
embarrassment on his, what silence falling between them, what
vain efforts to shake off an ever-increasing coldness and
constraint! It was five years since they had parted--was it
only years and distance that had estranged them, or had they
been unsuited to each other from the beginning? Not even now
would Graham acknowledge to himself that it was so, but it was
a conviction he had been struggling against for years.
"Will you take some tea, Monsieur Horace?" said a voice behind
him. He turned round. The grey daylight was fading into grey
dusk, afternoon tea had been brought in, and Madelon was
standing by him with a cup in her hand. "Aunt Barbara has gone
out, and will not be home till dinner-time," she added, as she
returned to the tea-table and fireside.
"Then you and I will drink tea together, Madelon," said
Graham, seating himself in an arm-chair opposite to her.
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