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Miss Aldclyffe held her almost as a lover would have held her, and said musingly 'We get more and more into one groove. I now am left fatherless and motherless as you were. Other ties lay behind in her thoughts, but she did not mention them. 'You loved your father, Cytherea, and wept for him? 'Yes, I did. Poor papa! 'I was always at variance with mine, and can't weep for him now!
Without waiting for any person to show her into it, Cytherea hurried upstairs again, brushed through the corridor, entered the room specified, and closed the door. Edward heard her sob out 'Nobody but Owen shall speak to me nobody! 'He will be here directly, said Springrove, close against the panel, and then went towards the stairs. He had seen her; it was enough.
'How is your son? said Owen mechanically. 'He is at home, sitting by the fire, said the farmer, in a sad voice. 'This morning he slipped indoors from God knows where, and there he sits and mopes, and thinks, and thinks, and presses his head so hard, that I can't help feeling for him. 'Is he married? said Owen. Cytherea had feared to tell him of the interview in the garden. 'No.
Then it seemed as if he were coming to the point again. No, he was not going to urge his suit that evening. Another respite. Saturday came, and she went on some trivial errand to the village post-office. It was a little grey cottage with a luxuriant jasmine encircling the doorway, and before going in Cytherea paused to admire this pleasing feature of the exterior.
'I cannot try any further, said Manston speciously to the rector, his sole auditor throughout the proceedings. 'Mr. Raunham, I'll tell you the truth plainly: I don't love her; I do love Cytherea, and the whole of this business of searching for the other woman goes altogether against me. I hope to God I shall never see her again. 'But you will do your duty at least? said Mr. Raunham.
Cytherea started to her feet at the sound, which broke in upon a fitful sleep that had overtaken her. She had been sitting drearily in her chair waiting minute after minute for the signal, her brain in that state of intentness which takes cognizance of the passage of Time as a real motion motion without matter the instants throbbing past in the company of a feverish pulse.
Her summons was speedily answered by the landlady herself, whose curiosity to know the meaning of these strange proceedings knew no bounds. The landlady attempted to turn the handle of the door. Cytherea kept the door locked. 'Please tell Mr. Manston when he comes that I am ill, she said from the inside, 'and that I cannot see him. 'Certainly I will, madam, said the landlady.
'Is Miss Aldclyffe here? she said to a nicely-dressed barmaid in the foreground, who was talking to a landlady covered with chains, knobs, and clamps of gold, in the background. 'No, she isn't, said the barmaid, not very civilly. Cytherea looked a shade too pretty for a plain dresser.
Both faces also unconsciously stated that their owners had been much in each other's thoughts of late. Owen had talked to the young architect of his sister as freely as to Cytherea of the young architect. A conversation began, which was none the less interesting to the parties engaged because it consisted only of the most trivial and commonplace remarks.
To hearts in a despairing mood, compulsion seems a relief; and docility was at all times natural to Cytherea. She promised, and sat down. Miss Aldclyffe shut the door upon her and retreated. She sewed, stopped to think, shed a tear or two, recollected the articles of the treaty, and sewed again; and at length fell into a reverie which took no account whatever of the lapse of time.
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