When first he came there--when she had
meditated over his first visit--she had hardly given him credit for
deep love; but now--there could be no doubt that he loved her now.
After his season in London, his days and nights passed with all
that was beautiful, he had returned there, to that little country
parsonage, that he might again throw himself at her feet. And
she--she had refused to see him, though she loved him with all her
heart, she had refused to see him because she was so vile a coward
that she could not bear the sour looks of an old woman! "I will come
down directly," she said, when Fanny at last knocked at the door,
begging to be admitted. "I won't open it, love, but I will be with
you in ten minutes; I will, indeed." And so she was; not, perhaps,
without traces of tears, discernible by the experienced eye of Mrs.
Robarts, but yet with a smooth brow, and voice under her own command.
"I wonder whether she really loves him," Mark said to his wife that
night.
"Love him!" his wife had answered: "indeed she does; and, Mark, do
not be led away by the stern quiet of her demeanour. To my thinking
she is a girl who might almost die for love."
On the next day Lord Lufton left Framley; and started, according to
his arrangements, for the Norway salmon fishing.
Pages:
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578