Then she pictured to herself the stately dame who
would certainly come, and she made fresh resolutions with a sore
heart.
"I don't know why you should be so very little with me," said Lady
Ushant, almost whining. "When I was at Cheltenham you wanted to
come to me."
"There are so many things to be done at home."
"And yet you would have come to Cheltenham."
"We were in great trouble then, Lady Ushant. Of course I would like
to be with you. You ought not to scold me, because you know how I
love you"
"Has the young man gone away altogether now, Mary?"
"Altogether."
"And Mrs. Masters is satisfied?"
"She knows it can never be, and therefore she is quiet about it."
"I was sorry for that young man, because he was so true."
"You couldn't be more sorry than I was, Lady Ushant. I love him as
though he was a brother. But--"
"Mary, dear Mary, I fear you are in trouble."
"I think it is all trouble," said Mary, rushing forward and hiding
her face in her old friend's lap as she knelt on the ground before
her. Lady Ushant longed to ask a question, but she did not dare.
And Mary Masters longed to have one friend to whom she could
confide her secret,--but neither did she dare.
On the next day, very early in the morning, there came a note from
Mrs. Morton to Mr. Masters, the attorney.
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