'Mrs. Batty will
understand, and Henrietta and I will represent the family.'
'No, I must not give way. Caroline never gave way.'
There was no excitement in dressing for this party. Without Caroline
things lost their zest, and they set out demurely, walking very slowly
for Sophia's sake.
It was a hot day and Mrs. Batty, standing at the garden door to greet
her guests, was obliged to wipe her face surreptitiously now and then,
while the statues in the hall, with their burdens of ferns and lamps,
showed their cool limbs beneath their scanty but still decent drapery.
Mrs. Batty took Sophia to a seat under a tree and Henrietta stood for
a moment in the blazing sunlight alone. Where was Aunt Rose? Henrietta
looked round and had a glimpse of that slim black form moving among
the rose-trees with Francis Sales. He had simply carried her off! It
was disgraceful, and things seemed to repeat themselves for ever. Aunt
Rose, with her look of having lost everything, still succeeded in
possessing, while Henrietta was alone. She had no place in the world.
John's affianced bride was busy among the guests, like a daughter of
the house, a slobbering bulldog at her heels; and Henrietta, isolated
on the lawn, was overcome by her own forlornness. It had been very
different at the ball. And how queer life was! It was just a
succession of days, that was all: little things happened and the days
went on; big things happened and seemed to change the world, but
nothing was really changed, and a whole life could be spent with a
moment's happiness or despair for its only marks.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333