Part 67 (1/2)
Lady Frances looked at her mercilessly.
”I have been worrying so about his coming--worrying so about you.”
”About me?”
Clodagh said the words consciously and uncomfortably.
”Yes. I feel so much for you--you, who are so sensitive. Clodagh!”--she laid her fingers lightly on Clodagh's arm--”Clodagh! I am your best friend. You believe that?”
”You--you have always been very good to me.”
”And always _shall_ be good to you. Look here!” Her voice suddenly took on the tone of seeming frankness that is the clever woman's best weapon. ”I'm enormously fond of you--enormously fond of you. I should hate to see you hurt or--or----”
She paused judiciously.
”But who would hurt me? Why should I be hurt?”
”You _shouldn't_ be, of course. But sometimes circ.u.mstances--chances --people--hurt one. Oh, my dear girl, I'm unhappy at this unlucky coming of Walter's. It's hard--it's really hard--on you.”
As the words were uttered, it seemed to Clodagh that a faint cold wind blew from some unseen quarter, chilling the summer warmth--chilling her own happiness.
”Why--why hard on me?” she asked.
”Dear child!” Lady Frances's tone was deep and kind. ”Do you remember the night in town when you asked me to take you to the Tamperleigh's party?”
”Yes. I remember.”
”You remember why I refused?”
”Yes, I remember.”
”But you did not know my full reason for refusing. I had met Walter a day or two before. We had discussed you.”
”And what had Sir Walter Gore to say of me?”
”He said--oh, dear child, don't ask me to be too literal.”
”But I do.”
Clodagh freed her arm.
”Is it worth while? I tried to keep you two apart while I could. Now that it has become impossible----”
”But why should we be kept apart? What have I done?”
”Dear Clodagh! you know Walter--you know how entirely he disapproves----”
”Disapproves!--disapproves! What right has Sir Walter Gore to disapprove of me?--to criticise--to speak of me?”
Her voice shook, not--as she herself imagined--with outraged pride, but with uncontrollable disappointment and pain.