'But that seems to you so long ago, doesn't it? You can forgive me
now. Father has told me what happiness you have found, and I--I am
so glad!'
Sidney drew back a step, involuntarily; the movement came of the
shock with which he heard her make such confident reference to the
supposed relations between himself and Jane Snowdon. He reddened--
stood mute. For a few seconds his mind was in the most painful whirl
and conflict; a hundred impressions, arguments, apprehensions,
crowded upon him, each with its puncturing torment. And Clara stood
there waiting for his reply, in the attitude of consummate grace.
'Of course I know what you speak of,' he said at length, with the
bluntness of confusion. 'But your father was mistaken. I don't know
who can have led him to believe that--It's a mistake,
altogether.'
Sidney would not have believed that anyone could so completely rob
him of self-possession, least of all Clara Hewett. His face grew
still more heated. He was angry with he knew not whom, he knew not
why--perhaps with himself in the first instance.
'A mistake?' Clara murmured, under her breath. 'Oh, you mean people
have been too hasty in speaking about it.
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