Lady Fawn was a tower of strength to
Lucy. But then a tower of strength may at any moment become a dungeon.
Frank Greystock was not her lover. Ah, there was the worst of it all! She
had given her heart and had got nothing in return. She conned it all over
in her own mind, striving to ascertain whether there was any real cause
for shame to her in her conduct. Had she been unmaidenly? Had she been too
forward with her heart? Had it been extracted from her, as women's hearts
are extracted, by efforts on the man's part; or had she simply chucked it
away from her to the first comer? Then she remembered certain scenes at
the deanery, words that had been spoken, looks that had been turned upon
her, a pressure of the hand late at night, a little whisper, a ribbon that
had been begged, a flower that had been given; and once, once----; then
there came a burning blush upon her cheek that there should have been so
much, and yet so little that was of avail. She had no right to say to any
one that the man was her lover. She had no right to assure herself that he
was her lover. But she knew that some wrong was done her in that he was
not her lover.
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