What vile meanings might not be read between Wyant’s phrases? She had a right to tell the story in her own way—the true way.…
As Amherst approached, in his evening clothes, the heavy locks smoothed from his forehead, a flower of Cicely’s giving in his button-hole, she thought she had never seen him look so kind and handsome.
“Not dressed? Do you know that it’s ten minutes to eight?” he said, coming up to her with a smile.
She roused herself, putting her hands to her hair. “Yes, I know—I forgot,” she murmured, longing to feel his arms about her, but standing rooted to the ground, unable to move an inch nearer.
It was he who came close, drawing her lifted hands into his. “You look worried—I hope it was nothing troublesome that made you forget?”
The divine kindness in his voice, his eyes! Yes—it would be easy, quite easy, to tell him.…
“No—yes—I was a little troubled.… she said, feeling the warmth of his touch flow through her hands reassuringly.
“Dear! What about?”
She drew a deep breath. “The letter{bar|2}}”
He looked puzzled. “What letter?”
“Downstairs … when we came in … it was not an ordinary begging-letter.”
“No? What then?” he asked, his face clouding.
[ 486 ]
