encouragement, I should say the very dearest.' He still held her hand,
and was looking into her face as he spoke. For a moment she stood
there, bearing his gaze, as though she expected some further words to
be spoken. Then she withdrew her hand, and again saying, in a clear
voice, 'Good-night, Captain Aylmer,' she left the room.


CHAPTER IX

CAPTAIN AYLMER'S PROMISE TO HIS AUNT

What had Captain Aylmer meant by telling her that they might be the
dearest friends by saying so much as that, and then saying no more? Of
course Clara asked herself that question as soon as she was alone in
her bedroom, after leaving Captain Aylmer below. And she made two
answers to herself two answers which were altogether distinct and
contradictory one of the other. At first she decided that he had said
so much and no more because he was deceitful because it suited his
vanity to raise hopes which he had no intention of fulfilling because
he was fond of saying soft things which were intended to have no
meaning. This was her first answer to herself. But in her second she
accused herself as much as before she had accused him. She had been
cold to him, unfriendly, and harsh. As her aunt had told her, she spoke
sharp words to him, and repulsed the kindness which he offered her.
What right had she to expect from him a declaration of love when she
was studious to stop him at every avenue by which he might approach it?
A little management on her side would, she almost knew, make things
right. But then the idea of any such management distressed her nay,
more, disgusted her. The management, if any were necessary, must come
from him. And it was manifest enough that if he had any strong wishes