There was
nothing soft or gracious in the tresses of her hair. When Lady
Ushant had been young men had liked hair such as was that of Mary
Masters. Arabella's yellow locks,--whencesoever they might have
come,--were rough and uncombed. But it was the look of age, and the
almost masculine strength of the lower face which astonished Lady
Ushant the most. "Has he spoken to you about me?" she said.
"Not to me." Then Lady Ushant went on to explain that though she
was there now as the female representative of the family she had
never been so intimate with John Morton as to admit of such
confidence as that suggested.
"I wonder whether he can love me," said the girl.
"Assuredly he does, Miss Trefoil. Why else should he send for you?"
"Because he is an honest man. I hardly think that he can love me
much. He was to have been my husband, but he will escape that. If I
thought that he would live I would tell him that he was free."
"He would not want to be free."
"He ought to want it. I am not fit for him. I have come here, Lady
Ushant, because I want to tell him the truth."
"But you love him?" Arabella made no answer, but sat looking
steadily into Lady Ushant's face. "Surely you do love him."
"I do not know. I don't think I did love him,--though now I may. It
is so horrible that he should die, and die while all this is going
on.
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