“Why, the Vixen in command. She orders everybody.”
“And why did she forbid you?”
“Don't know.”
“Yes, you do. Kiss me, dear. There, I will distress you with no more questions. Why should I? Our instincts seldom deceive us. Well, so be it: I have something more to get well for, and I will.”
Fanny looked up at her inquiringly.
“Yes,” said she; “the daughter of this hospitable house will never return to it while I am in it. Poor girl; she thinks she is the injured woman. So be it. I will get well—and leave it.”
Fanny communicated this to Miss Gale, and all she said was, “She shall go no further than Hillstoke then; for I love her better than any man can love her.”
Fanny did not tell Vizard; and he was downright happy, seeing the woman he loved recover, by slow degrees, her health, her strength, her color, her voice. Parting was not threatened. He did not realize that they should ever part at all. He had vague hopes that, while she was under his roof, opportunity might stand his friend, and she might requite his affection. All this would not bear looking into very closely: for that very reason he took particular care not to look into it very closely; but hoped all things, and was happy. In this condition he received a little shock.
A one-horse fly was driven up to the door, and a card brought in—