11 A.M.
She would have been glad to go to Brussels to see him , but had that ever-present terror of coming athwart the pathway of George Fairfax ; nor could she go on such an errand without some kind of explanation with her father . She was content to abide , therefore , among the quiet pine-woods and umbrageous avenues , which the holiday world had not yet invaded , and where she was almost as free to wander with her boy as amidst the beloved woods of Arden Court . Life thus spent was very peaceful -- peaceful , and just a little monotonous . Mr. Lovel sipped his chocolate , and trifled with his maintenon cutlet , at 11 A.M. , with an open volume of Burton or Bentley beside his cup , just as in the old days of Clarissa 's girlhood . It was just like the life at Mill Cottage , with that one ever fresh and delicious element -- young Lovel . That baby voice lent a perpetual music to Clarissa 's existence ; the sweet companionship of that restless clambering infant seemed to her the perfection of happiness . And yet -- and yet -- there were times when she felt that her life was a failure , and lamented somewhat that she had so wrecked it .