Hubert had positively nothing to say to her; but she
seemed quite happy as long as she was with him. And as they drove through
the dawn Emily chattered of a hundred trifles,--what Edith had said, what
Mabel wore, of the possibility of a marriage, and the arrival of a
detachment of some cavalry regiment. Hubert found it hard to affect
interest in these conversations. His brain was weary with waltz tunes, the
shape of shoulders, and the glare and rustle of silk; but as she chattered,
rubbing the misted windows from time to time, so as to determine how far
they were from home, he wondered if he should ever marry, and half
playfully he thought of her as his wife.
But without warning his dreams were broken by a sudden thought, and he
said--
'Another time, I think it will be better, my dear Emily, that Mrs. Bentley
should take you out.'
'Why should you not take me out?... I suppose you don't care to--I bore
you.'
'No; on the contrary, I enjoy it--I like to see you amused; but I think you
should have a proper chaperon.'
Emily did not answer; and a little cloud came over her face. Hubert thought
she looked even prettier in her displeasure than she had done in her joy;
and he went to sleep thinking of her.
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