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Updated: June 23, 2025
The great house seemed to be alive with talk and laughter as they strolled upstairs, the girls making dressing-gown appointments in each other's rooms for a quarter of an hour later. When Lucy reached her own door she stopped awkwardly. Lady Driffield walked on, talking to Marcia Wellesdon. But Marcia looked back: 'Good night, Mrs. Grieve. She returned, and pressed Lucy's hand kindly.
But she had too few associations with anything she saw to care for it, and, indeed, her mind was too wholly given to her own vague, but overmastering sense of isolation and defeat. If it were only bedtime! Mrs. Wellesdon glanced at the solitary figure from time to time, but Lady Alice had her arm round 'Marcia's' waist, and kept close hold of her favourite cousin. At last, however, Mrs.
'Don't interfere with Reggie's prospects, Dean. 'Has he got any? said the Dean, maliciously. 'My dear Mrs. Wellesdon, you are a "sight for sair een." And he pressed the new-comer's hand between both his own, surveying her the while with a fatherly affection and admiration. Lucy looked up, a curious envy at her heart.
When have I been conscious of such stimulus, such exhilaration, as the evening's discussion produced in me? In the one case, Mrs. Wellesdon taught me what general conversation might be how nimble, delicate, and pleasure-giving; in the other, there was the joy of the intellectual wrestle, mingled with a glad respect for one's opponents.
He was excited, and any strong impression, in the practical loneliness of his deepest life, always now produced the impulse to write. 'Midnight. Lucy is asleep. I hope she has been happy and they have been kind to her. I saw Mrs. Wellesdon talking to her after dinner. She must have liked that. But at dinner she seemed to be sitting silent a good deal.
Wellesdon drew the young girl with her to the side of Lucy's chair, and, sitting down by the stranger, they both tried to entertain her, and to show her some of the things in the room. Lucy brightened up at once, and thought them both the most beautiful and fascinating of human beings.
Nay, her craving for him mounted to jealousy and passion. After all, though he did get on so much better in grand houses than she did, though they were all kind to him and despised her, he was hers, her very own, and no one should take him from her. Beautiful Mrs. Wellesdon might talk to him and make friends with him, but he did not belong to any of them, but to her, Lucy.
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