Mr. Venn's obsequiousness, instead
of rightful homage, seemed deprivation of support, and she saw no
one, spoke to no one, without the sense of Raymond's vast
superiority and her own insensibility to it, loving him a thousand
times more than she had loved him in life, and mourning him with an
anguish beyond what the most perfect union would have left. She had
nothing to do. Self-improvement was a mere oppression, and she
longed after nothing so much as the sight of Rosamond, Anne, Julius,
or even Frank, and her amiable wishes prevailed to have them invited
to Dunstone; but at the times specified there were hindrances. Anne
had engagements at home, and Rosamond appeared to the rest of the
family to be a perpetual refuge for stray De Lanceys, while Frank
had to make up for his long enforced absence by a long unbroken
spell of work.
Cecil therefore had seen none of the family till she arrived at
Compton. She was perfectly well, she said, and had become a great
walker, and so, indeed, she showed herself, for she went out
directly after breakfast every morning, and never appeared again
till luncheon time; and would take long rides in the afternoon.
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