The lover was not the lover of one of themselves,
but of their governess. And yet, though he desired neither to eat nor
drink at that hour, something special had been cooked for him, and a
special bottle of wine had been brought out of the cellar. All his sins
were forgiven him. No single question was asked as to his gross misconduct
during the last six months. No pledge or guarantee was demanded for the
future. There he was, in the guise of a declared lover, and the fatted
calf was killed.
After this early dinner it was necessary that he should return to town,
and Lucy obtained leave to walk with him to the station. To her thinking
now, there was no sin to be forgiven. Everything was, and had been, just
as it ought to be. Had any human being hinted that he had sinned, she
would have defended him to the death. Something was said between them
about Lizzie, but nothing that arose from jealousy. Not till many months
had passed did she tell him of Lizzie's message to herself, and of her
visit to Hertford Street; but they spoke of the necklace, and poor Lucy
shuddered as she was told the truth about those false oaths.
"I really do think that, after that, Lord Fawn is right," she said,
looking round at her lover.
Pages:
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182