"Well, child, I
told you that you might go into society if Lady Laura Armstrong took you
up, but I scarcely expected her to be as cordial as she has been to-day.
Nothing could have been better than the result of her visit; she seemed
quite taken with you, Clary."
It was almost the first time her father had ever called her Clary. It was
only a small endearment, but she blushed and sparkled into smiles at
the welcome sound. He saw the smile and blush, but only thought she was
delighted with the idea of this visit to the Castle. He had no notion
that the placid state of indifference which he maintained towards her was
otherwise than agreeable to her feelings. He was perfectly civil to her,
and he never interfered with her pursuits or inclinations. What more could
she want from a father?
Perhaps she assumed a new value in his eyes from the time of that visit of
Lady Laura's. He was certainly kinder to her than usual, the girl
thought, as they sat on the lawn in the balmy June evening, sipping their
after-dinner coffee, while the moon rose fair and pale above the woods of
Arden Court. He contemplated her with a meditative air now and then, when
she was not looking his way. He had always known that she was beautiful,
but her beauty had acquired a new emphasis from Lady Laura Armstrong's
praises. A woman of the world of that class was not likely to be deceived,
or to mistake the kind of beauty, likely to influence mankind; and in the
dim recesses of his mind there grew up a new hope--very vague and shadowy;
he despised himself for dwelling upon it so weakly--a hope that made him
kinder to his daughter than he had ever been yet--a hope which rendered her
precious to him all at once.
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