Henry chafed under this; but he commanded his temper, though with difficulty, and said, “Will you take a line to her from me?”
The Sister hesitated. “I don't know whether I ought,” said she.
“Oh, then the old game of intercepting letters is to be played.”
“Not by me: after prayer I shall be able to say Yes or No to your request. At present, being at a distance from my Superior, I must needs hesitate.”
“Right and wrong must have made very little impression on your mind, if you don't know whether you ought to take a letter to a woman from a man who has just saved her life—or not.”
The lady colored highly, courtesied, and retired without a word.
Little knew enough of human nature to see that the Sister would not pray against feminine spite; he had now a dangerous enemy in the house, and foresaw that Grace would be steadily worked on through her religious sentiments.
He went away, sick with disappointment, jealousy, and misgivings, hired a carriage, and drove at once to Raby Hall.