It was not very likely _he_ would be happy--a beast, like the rest of men, who, marrying her only for her uncle's money, having been ready to marry her for that when he had never even seen her--was yet full enough of the revolting quality of his sex to be desirous now to kiss her and clasp her in his arms! As far as she was concerned he would have no happiness! And she herself--what would the new life mean?
It appeared a blank--an abyss.

A dark curtain seemed to overhang and cover it.

All she could feel was that Mirko was being cared for, that she was keeping her word to her adored mother.

She would fulfill to the letter her uncle's wishes as to her suitable equipments, but beyond that she refused to think.
All the evening, when she had finished her short, solitary dinner, she played the piano in her sitting-room, her white fingers passing from one divine air to another, until at last she unconsciously drifted to the _Chanson Triste_, and Mirko's words came back to her: "There, there would be enough place for us both"-- Who knows--that might be the end of it! And the two men heard the distant wail of the last notes as they came out of the dining-room, and, while it made the financier uncomfortable, it caused Tristram a sharp stab of pain..