"Yes, it is my side," says Lilian, laying her hand pathetically upon her heart; and then, overcome by the weight of her own sorrows, she buries her head in her pillows and bursts into tears.
"Eh, hinny, don't cry," says nurse, fondly. "We must all have pains there at times, an' we must just learn to bear them as best we may. Come, look up, my bairn; I will put on a good mustard blister to-night, and to-morrow I tell you it won't magnify at all," winds up nurse, fluently, who rather prides herself upon her management of the Queen's English, and would scorn to acknowledge the misplacement of a word here and there; and indeed, after all, when one comes to think of it, it does not "magnify" very much.
But Lilian sobs on disconsolately. And next morning she has fresh cause to bewail her evil conduct. For the day breaks and continues through all its short life so wet, so wild, so stormy, that neither Saracen nor any other horse can leave the stables. Hunting is out of the question, and with a fresh pang, that through its severity is punishment enough for her fault, she knows all her temper of the night before was displayed for naught.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
"Meanwhile the day sinks fast, the sun is set,
And in the lighted hall the guests are met;
The beautiful looked lovelier in the light
Of love, and admiration, and delight
Reflected from a thousand hearts and eyes,