"He never even hinted it!" said Robert, greatly surprised.
"She told me so with her own lips: she warned me against him—she, his mother."
"Indeed!" said Robert, thoughtfully. "Yet with what coldness she received him!"
"It is not her nature," answered Florence, and her eyes filled with grateful tears. "To me, her kindness has been unvaried; there is something almost holy in her calm, sweet affection: but for this I had not been so unhappy. Had I detected prejudice, temper, anything selfish mingled with her words, they would never have reached my heart; but now, I cannot turn from her. With all her stately coldness she had something of his power—I dare not doubt her. But I will not believe the warning she gave me."
Robert walked up and down the room. New and stern thoughts were making their way in his mind. Gratitude is a powerful feeling, but it possesses none of the infatuation and blindness which characterizes the grand passion. Suspicions that had haunted his conscience like crimes, were beginning to shape themselves into stubborn facts. Still he would not yield to them. Like the gentle girl, drooping before his eyes, he dared not believe anything against William Leicester. Humiliation, nay, almost ruin, lay in the thought.
CHAPTER XIV. A WEDDING FORESHADOWED.
When her heart was all dreary and burdened with fears,
Hope came like a seraph and touched it with light,
Like sunshine or rain-drops it kindled her tears