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Updated: May 15, 2025
All Maurice's efforts were insufficient to dispel her gloom: she seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her sense of it with warmth; but there she stopped. Her heart was a closed book, which the little hunchback might bend over, but could not read.
Now Maurice's study was the thoroughfare of the household, the place for all parish preparations unpresentable in the drawing-room, and Albinia was taken by surprise. She grew hot and cold. Had she done anything wrong? Could he care for her if he could lock her out? 'I will not be morbid, I will not be absurd, said she to herself, though the tears stood in her eyes.
The whole council who had come from Zutphen to Maurice's camp were allowed to deliberate concerning the siege. The enemy had been seen hovering about the neighbourhood in considerable numbers, but had not ventured an attempt to throw reinforcements into the place. Many of the counsellors argued against the siege.
She knew that, when he spoke the words, "My child," and jealousy of an unknown woman struck like some sharp weapon to her heart. She realised that he did not love her, yet so great was her simple unselfishness, that she did not dwell on the knowledge, or blame for an instant the selfishness which concentrated Maurice's mind so entirely upon himself and his own sorrow.
There was one memory, however, that remained very distinct to Maurice's mind: his unexpected meeting with Jean.
Lady Dighton understood as little, and cared as little, about the distant colony as English people generally do; but she had considerable curiosity as to Maurice's past life; and in her benevolent efforts to improve and polish him, she was obliged to recognize the fact that, loyal Englishman as he was by birth, education and association, he might have said truly enough,
Breakfast was rather a long, dull affair. Uncle James, Maurice's father, explained to grandfather a great deal about a drainage scheme; and grandmother, every five minutes, asked her maid Martha, who stood behind her chair, to tell her what it was all about, which Martha had to do in very loud whispers over and over again.
The scented, lavender-colored envelope was on Maurice's desk at the office the morning after Mrs. Houghton and Edith arrived. When he had read it, and torn it into minute scraps, Maurice had something else to think of than Edith! He knew Lily wouldn't want to leave "her" baby to go out and cash a money order, and checks were dangerous; so he must take that trip to Medfield again.
'I'll tell you what, Cousin Rotherwood, exclaimed Phyllis, 'your hand is bleeding. 'Is it? Thank you, Phyllis, I thought I had washed it off: now do find me some sealing-wax India-rub her sticking-plaster, I mean. 'Oh! Rotherwood, said Emily, 'what a bad cut, how did it happen? 'Only, I am the victim to Maurice's first essay in fishing.
Kendal's conscience was evidently relieved by transferring to the Irishman the imputation of fostering Maurice's malpractices. They were interrupted by Lucy's arrival. She was come to take leave of home, for her lord was not to be dissuaded from going to London by the evening's train. The greater the consternation, the sweeter his revenge.
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