Architects -- Fiction; Castles -- Conservation and restoration -- Fiction; Love stories; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
The frigidity of his manner seemed to set her at ease by dispersing all
fear of a scene; and alternate dialogues of this sort with the gentleman
in their midst were more or less continued by both Paula and Somerset
till they rose from table.
In the bustle of moving out the two latter for one moment stood side by
side.
‘Miss Power,’ said Somerset, in a low voice that was obscured by the
rustle, ‘you have nothing more to say to me?’
‘I think there is nothing more?’ said Paula, lifting her eyes with
longing reticence.
‘Then I take leave of you; and tender my best wishes that you may have a
pleasant time before you!.... I set out for England to-night.’
‘With a special photographer, no doubt?’
It was the first time that she had addressed Somerset with a meaning
distinctly bitter; and her remark, which had reference to the forged
photograph, fell of course without its intended effect.
‘No, Miss Power,’ said Somerset gravely. ‘But with a deeper sense of
woman’s thoughtless trifling than time will ever eradicate.’
‘Is not that a mistake?’ she asked in a voice that distinctly trembled.
‘A mistake? How?’
‘I mean, do you not forget many things?’ (throwing on him a troubled
glance). ‘A woman may feel herself justified in her conduct, although it
admits of no explanation.’
‘I don’t contest the point for a moment.... Goodbye.’
‘Good-bye.’
They parted amid the flowering shrubs and caged birds in the hall,
and he saw her no more. De Stancy came up, and spoke a few commonplace
words, his sister having gone out, either without perceiving Somerset,
or with intention to avoid him.
That night, as he had said, he was on his way to England.
VII.
The De Stancys and Powers remained in Heidelberg for some days. All
remarked that after Somerset’s departure Paula was frequently irritable,
though at other times as serene as ever. Yet even when in a blithe and
saucy mood there was at bottom a tinge of melancholy. Something did not
lie easy in her undemonstrative heart, and all her friends excused the
inequalities of a humour whose source, though not positively known,
could be fairly well guessed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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