The sight of the hangings of the room, so
different to the old-fashioned dingy curtains at Bragton, the
brilliancy of the mirrors, all the decorations of the place, the
very blaze from the big grate, forced upon the girl's feelings a
conviction that this was her proper sphere. Here she was, being
made much of as a new-comer, and here if possible she must remain.
Everything smiled on her with gilded dimples, and these were the
smiles she valued. As the softness of the cushions sank into her
heart, and mellow nothingnesses from well-trained voices greeted
her ears, and the air of wealth and idleness floated about her
cheeks, her imagination rose within her and assured her that she
could secure something better than Bragton. The cautions with which
she had armed herself faded away. This, this was the kind of thing
for which she had been striving. As a girl of spirit was it not
worth her while to make another effort even though there might be
danger? Aut Caesar aut nihil. She knew nothing about Caesar; but
before the tardy wheels which brought the Senator and Mr. Morton
had stopped at the door she had declared to herself that she would
be Lady Rufford. The fresh party was of course brought into the
drawing-room and tea was offered; but Arabella hardly spoke to
them, and Lady Augustus did not speak to them at all, and they were
shown up to their bedrooms with very little preliminary
conversation.
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