She would neither write or speak any; but from unuttered
reproaches how could she abstain? She had called him a traitor once in
playful, loving irony, during those few hours in which her love had been
to her a luxury that she could enjoy. But now he was a traitor indeed. Had
he left her alone she would have loved him in silence, and not have been
wretched in her love. She would, she knew, in that case, have had vigour
enough and sufficient strength of character to bear her burden without
outward signs of suffering, without any inward suffering that would have
disturbed the current of her life. But now everything was over with her.
She had no thought of dying, but her future life was a blank to her.
She came down-stairs to sit at lunch with Lady Linlithgow, and the old
woman did not perceive that anything was amiss with her companion. Further
news had been heard of Lizzie Eustace, and of Lord Fawn, and of the
robberies, and the countess declared how she had read in the newspapers
that one man was already in custody for the burglary at the house in
Hertford Street. From that subject she went on to tidings which had
reached her from her old friend Lady Clantantram that the Fawn marriage
was on again.
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