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She took great interest in noticing all around. Her warm heart throbbed in sympathy with many an idle, passing flirtation, which she in her simplicity mistook for a real "attachment." It seemed as if every one loved, or was loved, except herself. She thought this, blushing as if it were unmaidenliness, when it was only nature speaking in her heart.
She was taken to Admiral Baldwin Fakenham's house in Hampshire; and there she remained, the delight of his life, during two months, patiently expecting and rebuking the unmaidenliness of her expectations, as honest young women in her position used to do.
He guessed that she loved him and he pitied her; but he could not forgive her unmaidenliness, he could not love her. Slowly and quite easily she felt her heart die in her breast, leaving only the shell, the husk, of what had been Randalin, Frode's daughter. Her first thought Was a vague wonder that after it she could breathe and move as if she were still alive.
He had a sentence to speak, and by it the flow of all her years would be irrevocably ordered. She had given herself over to him, she, with her pride, her courage, her endurance. Wogan had seen too closely into her heart to bring any foolish charge of unmaidenliness against her. No, the very completeness of her submission raised her to a higher pinnacle.
She was taken to Admiral Baldwin Fakenham's house in Hampshire; and there she remained, the delight of his life, during two months, patiently expecting and rebuking the unmaidenliness of her expectations, as honest young women in her position used to do.
She had walked more rapidly than she had been aware of and was shocked at her apparent unmaidenliness in approaching the house of a man, and at night, in whom she was irresistibly interested; although, to be sure, if she walked round the island, to pass his house sooner or later was inevitable.
It was part of her punishment, she told herself for her sins of deceit and unmaidenliness in encouraging and meeting a clandestine lover. She had gone through some very bitter hours since her tryst at the ruins.
"Marriage!" exclaimed Clara, dashing into the ford, fearful of her ungovernable wildness and of what it might have kindled. You, father! you have driven me to unmaidenliness!
"And she?" with a nod and a sparkle. "Ah! There now that's what I don't know. She's not one to wear her heart on her sleeve. At times I have dared to hope. Then again I have feared " "That is quite right. That is quite as it should be. Anything more, so early as this, would imply unmaidenliness on her part." "Truly? You mean it? You are, without exception, the most charming old lady in the world!
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