Clare’s sinking feeling did not lighten with her guardian’s absence. Rather, it grew stronger the more she thought about the great fix her grandmother had left her in.Uncle Horsham might have been a stuffy old man, but he would never have been as odious, as repellently odious as Benedict Choate!What was she to do?Lady Melvin followed her up the stairs. She tried in vain to lighten her spirits, touching unerringly upon the very things that most lacerated Clare’s feelings. “How very handsome he is, to be sure! And such elegance of demeanor. I vow, Clare dear, that you could not find, I am positive, another such gentleman in England!”Clare nodded vigorous agreement, and bit back the words on the tip of her tongue. Fortunately for England.“How much wiser Lady Penryck was to give you a guardian who is up to snuff—now, where did I learn that vulgar phrase?—in all details. Your affairs will march very well with him in charge. I recommend to you that you thank God every night on your knees for such a fortunate delivery!”Since Clare’s thoughts ran along entirely different lines, and since she could share them with no one—not even in her prayers—she allowed Lady Melvin’s rhapsodies to float past her, unheeded, and Lady Melvin, secure in the belief that she had given Clare a good deal of sensible advice, left her.But Clare was not comforted.
