If you thought he was in love with you,
dear--in your situation--going to be married to some one else--But you
needn't be afraid of that at all. I never saw a young man more in love
with any one than he is with Drusilla--and I think she must have refused
him. If she hadn't he would never have shot off in that way, like a bolt
from the blue--But what's the matter, dear? You look white. You're not
ill?"
"It's the smell of lavender," Olivia gasped, weakly. "I never could
endure it. I'll just run into the air a minute--"
This was all that passed between Olivia and Mrs. Temple on the subject.
If the latter reported it with suppressions and amplifications it was
doubtless due to her knowledge of what could be omitted as well as of
what would have been said had the topic been pursued. In any case it
caused her to sigh and mumble as she went on with her task of folding
and unfolding and of examining textures and designs:
"Oh, how mixy! Such sixes and sevens! Everything the wrong way round! My
poor Drusilla!--my poor little girlie! And such a good position! Just
what she's capable of filling!--as well as Olivia--better, with all her
experience of their army. ''Tis better to have loved and lost,' dear
Tennyson says; but I don't know.
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