Her consent once gained, he had only to put her into a
hackney-coach and drive to the Marseilles station. Why should they not
start that very night? There was a train that left Paris at seven, he knew;
in three days they might be on the shores of the Adriatic.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XLI.
MR. GRANGER'S WELCOME HOME.
Clarissa left the Rue de Morny at three o'clock that day. She had a round
of calls to make, and for that reason had postponed her visit to her
brother's painting-room to a later hour than usual. The solemn dinner,
which she shared with Miss Granger in stately solitude, took place at
half-past seven, until which hour she considered her time at her own
disposal.
Sophia spent that particular afternoon at home, illuminating the new gothic
texts for her schoolrooms at Arden. She had been seated at her work about
an hour after Clarissa's departure, when the door opened behind her, and
her father walked into the room.
There had been no word of his return in his latest letter; he had only said
generally in a previous epistle, that he should come back directly the
business that had called him to Yorkshire was settled.
"Good gracious me, papa, how you startled me!" cried Miss Granger, dabbing
at a spot of ultramarine which had fallen upon her work. It was not a very
warm welcome; but when she had made the best she could of that unlucky blue
spot, she laid down her brush and came over to her father, to whom she
offered a rather chilly kiss.
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