She had no
desire to shine, no consciousness of her own beauty; for the French girls
at Madame Marot's had been careful not to tell her that her pale patrician
face was beautiful. She wished for nothing but to win her father's love,
and to bring about some kind of reconciliation between him and Austin.
So the autumn deepened into winter, and the winter brightened into early
spring, without bringing any change to her life. She had her colour-box and
her easel, her books and piano, for her best companions; and if she did
not make any obvious progress towards gaining her father's affection,
she contrived, at any rate, to avoid rendering her presence in any way
obnoxious to him.
Two or three times in the course of the winter Mrs. Oliver gave a little
musical party, at which Clarissa met the small gentry of Holborough, who
pronounced her a very lovely girl, and pitied her because of her father's
ruined fortunes. To her inexperience these modest assemblies seemed the
perfection of gaiety; and she would fain have accepted the invitations that
followed them, from the wives of Holborough bankers and lawyers and medical
men to whom she had been introduced. Against this degradation, however, Mr.
Lovel resolutely opposed himself.
"No, Clarissa," he said, sternly; "you must enter society under such
auspices as I should wish, or you must be content to remain at home. I
can't have a daughter of mine hawked about in that petty Holborough set.
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