"He seemed rather in a muddle."
Eugenia, who was near the window, glanced out, listening a moment.
"The matter--the matter"--she answered. "But you don't say such things here."
"If you mean that he had been drinking a little, you can say that."
"He does n't drink any more. I have cured him. And in return--he 's in love with me."
It was Acton's turn to stare. He instantly thought of his sister; but he said nothing about her. He began to laugh.
"I don't wonder at his passion! But I wonder at his forsaking your society for that of your brother's paint-brushes."
Eugenia was silent a little. "He had not been in the studio.
I invented that at the moment."
"Invented it? For what purpose?"
"He has an idea of being romantic. He has adopted the habit of coming to see me at midnight--passing only through the orchard and through Felix's painting-room, which has a door opening that way.
It seems to amuse him," added Eugenia, with a little laugh.
Acton felt more surprise than he confessed to, for this was a new view of Clifford, whose irregularities had hitherto been quite without the romantic element. He tried to laugh again, but he felt rather too serious, and after a moment's hesitation his seriousness explained itself. "I hope you don't encourage him," he said.
"He must not be inconstant to poor Lizzie."