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She distrusted him at first, but her starved heart was crying out for the very thing he offered her. As the weeks went on, with no news of Cecil, she accepted his death stoically at last. Something of her had died. But in a curious way the boy had put his mark on her. And as she grew more like the thing he had thought her to be the gulf between Mabel and herself widened.
It does not follow, from what you say, that Mr. Muir was in his mind." "Is it not probable, Mabel, from all that has passed? What brings the Quartermaster here? He has never found it necessary before to accompany the parties that have gone below. He thinks of you for his wife; and your father has made up his own mind that you shall be so. You must see, Mabel, that Mr. Muir follows you?"
"I had trusted, until to-day, Mabel, that you had conquered that disgraceful weakness," he resumed, yet more pitilessly. Domination was one of his besetting sins. He never saw a helpless or cowering thing without feeling the inclination to set his foot upon it, and the least show of resistance in such, piqued him into despotism.
My Lady Mabel will be dead and buried." There is no knowing how long Lord Mallow might have meandered on in this dismal strain, if he had not been seasonably interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Vawdrey, who came sauntering along the winding shrubbery-walk, with his favourite pointer Hecate at his heels.
"At last!" exclaimed Grace triumphantly, as she extracted a letter from the Wayne Hall bulletin board addressed to her in Mabel Ashe's unmistakable handwriting. "Oh, I am so glad! I thought she had forgotten me." "Or had been persuaded to forget you," put in Elfreda Briggs, who had come downstairs to breakfast directly behind Grace. Grace looked frankly amazed. "How did you know?"
"Yes," said Mabel, "but you're not in sight of Heaven not by a long way. I don't suppose you ever will be. Besides, if he had stayed, the dinner could not have gone on." Luke's ears twitched convulsively. "I can't see that," he said. "It is unthinkable. How can you say that?" "Well," said Mabel, "one of the vegetables we are to eat to-night happens to be leeks.
Mabel was made aware in countless little ways of her husband's descent in popular estimation; he was no longer forced into a central position in any gathering they happened to form part of, but stood forlornly in corners, like the rest of humanity.
Nobody quite knew how the little gossiping whisper arose, but arise it did, and great was the commotion put into the atmosphere, and severe the flutterings it caused to arise in more than one gentle girl heart. Catherine and Mabel Bertram were in the highest possible spirits during this same month of August. Their mother seemed well once more, well, and gay, and happy.
She wondered a little sadly why Mabel Ashe had not written her. Could it be possible that Mabel had heard unkind, untruthful tales of her from the newspaper girl? Grace impatiently accused herself of being suspicious and tried to shake off the impression. While she was pursuing this uncomfortable train of thought, Patience Eliot was covertly watching her companion's face.
Mabel also paused before answering. "I cannot assent to the hypothesis of your inherited malady, Herbert. These headaches may mean nothing. But let that be as it may, you should have told me of this before." "You see," broke in Mrs. Aylett's triumphant sarcasm. "The reward of your maiden attempt at congugal confidence is reproof. What have I warned you from the beginning?"
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