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I made my way here last night to ask you to come up, and found you were gone to Heartburg." "But she is not remaining at it?" exclaimed Deborah, speaking with hesitation, in her doubt, the flush on her face deepening. "I placed it at her disposal until other arrangements could be made," replied Lionel. "I am at present the guest of Lady Verner. You will go to Sibylla, will you not?" Go to her? Ay!
One bright June day they were expected back. Lionel Dacre had driven to the station. Lady Earle had laid aside her mourning dress, and sat anxiously awaiting her son. She wished the homecoming were over, and that they had all settled down to the new life. Her wish was soon gratified. Once again she gazed upon the face of her only and beloved son.
The mighty god, Society, having descended from his London throne, and with a despotic wave of the hand bid his slaves forth to some resort where fashion reigned; as a matter of course, you and I, mon ami, must go with the stream if we would not be ostracised altogether; we should dearly love to take a lazy summer jaunt with some of them; our dear Lionel Trevalyon, in his lonely pilgrimage to the North Countree, would be glad of companionship; I wish it had been his pleasant fate to make his exodus with his old friends, the Lady Esmondet and Vaura Vernon; but it was not to be.
If he can send us good news of Lionel, it will help us much more than his staying here could do." "If dear Caroline," and Clara burst into a fit of weeping, which obliged her to leave the room.
His terrors very swiftly magnified a risk that in itself was so slender as to be entirely negligible. In his eyes it ceased to be a risk; it became a certain and inevitable danger. If Sir Oliver put forward this proof that the trail of blood had not proceeded from himself, it must, thought Lionel, inevitably be concluded that it was his own.
But there she was, as distinguished-looking, as self-possessed as ever; her glance direct and simple and calm, though she seemed to hesitate for a moment as if seeking for some one whom she might know in the crowd. From the fact of her not having been announced, Lionel guessed that she was staying in the house; perhaps, indeed, she had been in the drawing-room before. He hardly knew what to do.
The combination, distilled by the night, was intoxicating; and if I ever smell it again, even at the other end of the world, my thoughts will run back to Sir Lionel and the fairy village of Clovelly. Half-way down the cleft in the cliff, which is Clovelly's one street, we stopped at a house where a faint light burned sleepily.
Then took he up Sir Lionel, and threw him bound over his own horse's back; and so he served the three other knights, and rode them away to his own castle.
"She cannot love me well enough to marry," answered Lionel with a quivering lip, and an attempt at that irony in which all extreme anguish, at least in our haughty sex, delights to seek refuge or disguise. "Likes me as a friend, a brother, and so forth, but nothing more. All a mistake, sir all, except your marvellous kindness to me to her for which Heaven ever bless you."
On returning from a long ride one morning Vaura and Lionel found a gay party of callers chatting with Lady Esmondet; amongst them was Vaura's old friend, Robert Douglas.
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