"I
am so sorry that you are ill, Lizzie," he said.
"Yes, I am ill; sometimes very ill; but what does it matter? I did not
send for you, Frank, to speak of aught so trivial as that. I have a favour
to ask."
"Of course I will grant it."
"It is your forgiveness for my conduct yesterday."
"Oh, Lizzie!"
"Say that you forgive me. Say it!"
"How can I forgive where there has been no fault?"
"There has been fault. Say that you forgive me." And she stamped her foot
as she demanded his pardon.
"I do forgive you," he said.
"And now, one farewell." She then threw herself upon his breast and kissed
him. "Now go," she said; "go, and come no more to me, unless you would see
me mad. May God Almighty bless you, and make you happy." As she uttered
this prayer she held the door in her hand, and there was nothing for him
but to leave her.
CHAPTER XXXII
MR. AND MRS. HITTAWAY IN SCOTLAND
A great many people go to Scotland in the autumn. When you have your
autumn holiday in hand to dispose of it, there is nothing more
aristocratic that you can do than go to Scotland. Dukes are more plentiful
there than in Pall Mall, and you will meet an earl or at least a lord on
every mountain.
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