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Updated: May 5, 2025
So they made a round every room almost in the apartment communicating with every other and thus reached Aunt Pattie's sitting-room and the salon. Lucy sat shivering beside the wood-fire in Aunt Pattie's room, which Miss Manisty had lit as soon as she set eyes upon her; while the two other ladies murmured to each other in the salon.
'I shall never do him the disservice of becoming his wife' she announced, with her melancholy eyes full upon her brother 'But money is of no use to me. He is young and can employ it. Manisty inquired whether the gentleman in question was aware of what she proposed.
He was a tall stiffly built man, with a heavy white face, and a shock of black hair combed into a high and bird-like crest. As to Mrs. Burgoyne's attentions, he received them with a somewhat pinched but still smiling dignity. Manisty, meanwhile, a few feet away, was fidgetting on his chair, in one of his most unmanageable moods.
Miss Alice Manisty had come to her room, had behaved strangely, and Lucy, running to summon assistance, had roused Mr. Manisty in the library. No doubt she might have managed better, both then and in the afternoon. And so, with a resolute repression of all excited talk, she had turned her blanched face from the light, and set herself to go to sleep, as the only means of inducing Mrs.
In very simple words, faltering yet restrained, she told the whole story. Manisty followed every word with breathless attention. 'My God! he said, when she paused, 'my God! And he hid his eyes with his hand a moment. Then 'You knew she had a weapon? he said. 'I supposed so, she said quietly. 'All the time she was in my room, she kept her poor hand closed on something.
'The next train should bring them here in about an hour, she thought to herself in great flatness of spirit. 'How stupid of Reggie! Then as she lifted her eyes, they fell upon Manisty and Lucy, strolling along the wall together, he talking, she turning her brilliant young face towards him, her white dress shining in the sun.
And here they were, sitting in cousinly talk, as though nothing else were between them but this polite anxiety for Miss Foster's peace of mind! What was behind that apparently frank brow those sparkling grey-blue eyes? Manisty could always be a mystery when he chose, even to those who knew him best.
Manisty was when he chose a most brilliant talker, they were welcome everywhere, and Rome certainly feted them a good deal. The lady staying with them was a Mrs. Burgoyne, a very graceful and charming woman whom everybody liked. It was quite plain that there was some close relation between her and Mr. Manisty. By which I mean nothing scandalous! Heavens! nobody ever thought of such a thing.
He leant upon his stick, conscious of inward excitement, feeling suddenly on his old shoulders the burden of those three lives of which Mrs. Burgoyne had spoken. 'My God, give them to me! he cried, with a sudden leap of the heart that was at once humble and audacious. Not a word to Mr. Manisty, or to any other human being, clearly, as to Mrs. Burgoyne's presence at Torre Amiata.
As she sat there, rapt in a sudden intensity of reflection, the fatal transformation in her was still more plainly visible; Manisty could hardly keep his eyes from her. Was it his fault? His poor, kind Eleanor! He felt the ghastly tribute of it, felt it with impatience, and repulsion. Must a man always measure his words and actions by a foot-rule lest a woman take him too seriously?
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