As she faced the thought, a sense of shame overcame her. Had she not known how helpless both her father and David would be without her, especially at this juncture, she would have been sorely tempted to be gone as she had come. It was not in her nature to contemplate anything ungenerous, even for the gratification of that strongest of passions in woman, self respect. But in her present mood, even the rector’s well-meant, kindly words recurred to sting—“It was not her place to interfere!” Well, she would keep her place, as David’s servant, and not presume again beyond her duty!
Yes, and she would take that other place, too—the woman’s place, the queen’s place, not to be won without being wooed. If David wanted her now he must seek her!
CHAPTER VIII
A GREY GOWN AND RED ROSES
And then we met in wrath and wrong.
We met, but only meant to part.
Full cold my greeting was and dry;
She faintly smiled ...
—Tennyson (The Letters).
Fain would Ellinor have avoided being present at the reception of the guests. But Sir David willed it otherwise.
Bearing an armful of roses, she met him on the morning of the arrival at the foot of the great stairs. She had scarcely seen him since the night on the tower; and hurt to her heart’s core, as only a woman can be, by his seeming avoidance of her, she faced him with a front as cold, a manner as courteously reserved as his own. For it was a different David from any she had hitherto known that now emerged from many days’ seclusion and soul struggle.