He
had imagined them, when alone together, spending their time in a
delightful and intellectual communion of ideas, which would make the tie
of marriage seem as almost a pleasure. And what was the reality?--An
absolute emptiness, and the knowledge that, unless Arabella Clinker
continued her ministrations, he himself would have to play her part! He
actually regretted his accession to fortune. But for it he could have
broken off the engagement with decency, but now his hands were tied.
Only Cecilia could release him, and she did not seem to have the
slightest intention of doing so.
He savagely clenched his white teeth when he remembered the ridiculous
waiting lackey he had been made to turn into in the last week. Then he
looked up and tried to take interest in the quaint gateway through which
he was passing and on up to the unique town and the square where is the
ancient Podesta's palace, now the hotel. But he was in a mood of rasping
cynicism--even the exquisite evening sunlight seemed to mock at him.
His highly trained eye took in the wonderful old-world beauty around him
with some sense of unconscious satisfaction, but the saintly calm of the
place made no impression upon him.
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