But I
don't think I ever saw you look so pale. One would think _you_ were going
to be married, instead of Lady Geraldine. _She's_ as cool as a cucumber
this morning, Sarah Thompson told me just now. You can't put _her_ out
easily."
The carriages were driving up to the great door by this time. It was about
twenty minutes to eleven, and in ten minutes more the procession would be
starting. Hale Church was within five minutes' drive of the Castle.
Clarissa went fluttering down to the drawing-room, where she supposed
people would assemble. There was no one there but Mr. Granger, who was
stalking up and down the spacious room, dressed in the newest and stiffest
of coats and waistcoats, and looking as if he were going to assist at a
private hanging. Miss Lovel felt almost inclined to ran away at sight of
him. The man seemed to pursue her somehow; and since that night when
George Fairfax had offered her his mocking congratulations, Mr. Granger's
attentions had been particularly repugnant to her.
She could not draw back, however, without positive rudeness, and it was
only a question of five minutes; so she went in and entered upon an
interesting little conversation about the weather. It was still fine; there
was no appearance of rain; a most auspicious day, really; and so on,--from
Mr. Granger; to which novel remarks Clarissa assented meekly.
"There are people who attach a good deal of significance to that kind
of thing," he said presently.
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