“What shall you do?” he said.
“Find out,” returned Hugh, “and act accordingly.”
He walked away as he spoke. James did not suppose it likely that Violante would come out of the ordeal with such flying colours as to satisfy his brother; and, though he was very little inclined to judge the poor child harshly, he could not help hoping that here was a way of escape for Hugh from a most unlucky prepossession, though, as he was forced to acknowledge, at the cost of considerable pain.
Part 2, Chapter XIII.
Contrary Winds.
“Oh, well for him whose will is strong!”
“Rosa! you were mistaken! He loves me—he says so. Oh, I am so happy—he is so good!” cried Violante, as she ran to meet her sister and threw herself into her arms. Timid as the southern maiden might be she had none of the proud, reticent “shamefastness” that would have led an English girl to conceal her joy even from herself. It was all right and natural; and as Rosa, aghast, dropped into a chair she knelt beside her, her sweet, pathetic eyes and lips transfigured as a flower by the sun.
“What did he say to you?” exclaimed Rosa.