Egremont approached the transept door with a lingering pace,
so that the stranger, who he observed was preparing to leave
the church, might overtake him. As he reached the door,
anxious to assure himself that he was not mistaken, he turned
round and his eye at once caught the face of Sybil. He
started, he trembled; she was not two yards distant, she
evidently recognised him; he held open the swinging postern of
the Abbey that she might pass, which she did and then stopped
on the outside, and said "Mr Franklin!"
It was therefore clear that her father had not thought fit, or
had not yet had an opportunity, to communicate to Sybil the
interview of yesterday. Egremont was still Mr Franklin. This
was perplexing. Egremont would like to have been saved the
pain and awkwardness of the avowal, yet it must be made,
though not with unnecessary crudeness. And so at present he
only expressed his delight, the unexpected delight he
experienced at their meeting. And then he walked on by her
side.
"Indeed," said Sybil, "I can easily imagine you must have been
surprised at seeing me in this great city. But many things,
strange and unforeseen, have happened to us since you were at
Mowedale.
Pages:
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406