Anne burst into tears.
* * * * *
The rain still fell, but the storm was dying away.
Blanche left the sofa, and, going to the window, opened the shutters to
look out at the night. She suddenly came back to Anne.
"I see lights," she said--"the lights of a carriage coming up out of
the darkness of the moor. They are sending after me, from Windygates. Go
into t he bedroom. It's just possible Lady Lundie may have come for me
herself."
The ordinary relations of the two toward each other were completely
reversed. Anne was like a child in Blanche's hands. She rose, and
withdrew.
Left alone, Blanche took the letter out of her bosom, and read it again,
in the interval of waiting for the carriage.
The second reading confirmed her in a resolution which she had privately
taken, while she had been sitting by Anne on the sofa--a resolution
destined to lead to far more serious results in the future than any
previsions of hers could anticipate. Sir Patrick was the one person she
knew on whose discretion and experience she could implicitly rely.
She determined, in Anne's own interests, to take her uncle into her
confidence, and to tell him all that had happened at the inn "I'll first
make him forgive me," thought Blanche.
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