There was a great deal in this letter which was quite terrible to
Miss Trefoil. In the first place by the time she received it she
had managed the matter with her uncle. Her father had altogether
refused to mention Lord Rufford's name, though he had heard the
very plain proposition which his daughter made to him with perfect
serenity. But he had said to the Duke that it would be a great
convenience if Bell could be received at Mistletoe for a few days,
and the Duke had got the Duchess to assent. Lady Augustus, too, had
been disposed of, and two very handsome new dresses had been
acquired. Her habit had been altered with reckless disregard of the
coming spring and she was fully prepared for her campaign. But what
would Mistletoe be to her without Lord Rufford? In spite of all
that had been done she would not go there. Unless she could turn
him by her entreaties she would pack up everything and start for
Patagonia, with the determination to throw herself overboard on the
way there if she could find the courage.
She had to think very much of her next letter. Should she write in
anger or should she write in love, or should she mingle both? There
was no need for care now, as there had been at first. She must
reach him at once, or everything would be over. She must say
something that would bring him to Mistletoe, whatever that
something might be.
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