But her door was
locked. "It is I, Arabella," said her mother.
"You can't come in at present, I am busy."
"But Arabella."
"You can't come in at present, mamma." Then Lady Augustus slowly
glided away to her own room and there waited for tidings.
The whole form of the girl's face was altered when she was alone.
Her features in themselves were not lovely. Her cheeks and chin
were heavy. Her brow was too low, and her upper lip too long. Her
nose and teeth were good, and would have been very handsome had
they belonged to a man. Her complexion had always been good till it
had been injured by being improved,--and so was the carriage of her
head and the outside lines of her bust and figure, and her large
eyes, though never soft, could be bright and sparkle. Skill had
done much for her and continued effort almost more. But now the
effort was dropped and that which skill had done turned against
her. She was haggard, lumpy, and almost hideous in her bewildered
grief.
Had there been a word of weakness in the short letter she might
have founded upon it some hope. It did not occur to her that he had
had the letter written for him, and she was astonished at its curt
strength. How could he dare to say that she had mistaken him? Had
she not lain in his arms while he embraced her? How could he have
found the courage to say that he had had no thought of marriage
when he had declared to her that he loved her? She must have known
that she had hunted him as a fox is hunted;--and yet she believed
that she was being cruelly ill-used.
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