"
"Yes. Of course, you have none in me?"
He laughed suddenly, and the sound was jarring and startling, like the
unexpected breaking of plates in a quiet room. Matilde's lips quivered
and her brow contracted spasmodically. She hated his voice at all times,
as she hated him and all that belonged to him and his being; but during
the past twenty-four hours he had developed this strange laugh which set
her teeth on edge every time she heard it.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked impatiently. "Why do you laugh
in that way?"
"Did I laugh?" he inquired, by way of answer. "It was unconscious. But
my voice was never musical. However, in the present state of our family
affairs, a little laughter might divert our thoughts. Have you seen
Bosio to-day? Why did he not come to luncheon? I hope he is not ill,
just at this moment."
Matilda 'placed' her voice carefully, as a singer would do, before she
answered.
"He is not ill," she said. "He was here an hour ago. I did not ask him
why he did not come to luncheon, because it did not concern me."
"Well? And the rest?"
"The rest? How anxious you are!" she exclaimed scornfully. "The rest is
as well as ill can be. I think he will marry Veronica."
"I should suppose so, if she will marry him," observed Macomer. "It
would be as sensible to doubt that a starving man would take bread, as
to question whether a poor man will accept a fortune, especially in such
an agreeable shape.
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