' A text, very neatly penned,
followed this; and the 'presentation' was made unctiously indeed, but with
a blush, as well as the accustomed smile, and with eyes that were lowered.
The early crimson sun of December had gone down behind the hills before we
took our seats in the carriage.
Lord Ilbury leaned with his elbow on the carriage window, looking in, and
he said to me--
'I really don't know what we shall do, Miss Ruthyn; we shall all feel so
lonely. For myself, I think I shall run away to Grange.'
This appeared to me as nearly perfect eloquence as human lips could utter.
His hand still rested on the window, and the Rev. Sprigge Biddlepen was
standing with a saddened smirk on the door steps, when the whip smacked,
the horses scrambled into motion, and away we rolled down the avenue,
leaving behind us the pleasantest house and hostess in the world, and
trotting fleetly into darkness towards Bartram-Haugh.
We were both rather silent. Milly had her book in her lap, and I saw
her every now and then try to read her 'earnest well-wisher's' little
inscription, but there was not light to read by.
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