"
"Their thoughts do not concern me," she returned, haughtily.
"Good-night, Lady Peters; do not interrupt me again, if you please."
And the good-tempered _chaperon_ went away, thinking to herself that
perhaps she had done wrong in interrupting the _tete-a-tete_.
"Still I did it for the best," she said to herself; "and servants will
talk."
Philippa L'Estrange did not move. Lady Peters thought she spoke in a
calm, proud voice. She would have been surprised could she have seen the
beautiful face all wet with tears; for, Philippa had laid her head on
the cold stone, and was weeping such tears as women weep but once in
life. She sat there not striving to subdue the tempest of emotion that
shook her, giving full vent to her passion of grief, stretching out her
hands and crying to her lost love.
It was all over now. She had stepped down from the proud height of her
glorious womanhood to ask for his love, and he had told her that he had
none to give her. She had thrown aside her pride, her delicacy. She had
let him read the guarded secret of her heart, only to hear his
reply--that she was not his ideal of womanhood.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170