If he
would have rated her soundly for her wickednesses, she could have made
something of that. She could have thrown herself on her knees, and
implored his pardon; or, if hard pressed, have suggested the propriety of
throwing herself out of the carriage-window. She could have brought him
round if he would only have talked to her, but there is no doing anything
with a silent man. He was not her master. He had no power over her. She
was the lady of Portray, and he could not interfere with her. If he
intended to be sullen with her to the end, and to show his contempt for
her, she would turn against him. "The worm will turn," she said to
herself. And yet she did not think herself a worm.
A few stations beyond Dumfries they were again alone. It was now quite
dark, and they had already been travelling over ten hours. They would not
reach their own station till eight, and then again there would be the
journey to Portray. At last he spoke to her.
"Are you tired, Lizzie?"
"Oh, so tired!"
"You have slept, I think?"
"No, not once; not a wink. You have slept." This she said in a tone of
reproach.
"Indeed I have."
"I have endeavoured to read, but one cannot command one's mind at all
times.
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