“No dear, it's all right.”
Mr. Pendyce came close, and since air and quiet were essential to her at that moment, he bent over and tried by every means in his power to rouse her; and she, who longed to be let alone, sympathised with him, for she knew that it was natural that he should do this. In spite of his efforts the feeling of faintness passed, and, taking his hand, she stroked it gratefully.
“What is to be done now, Horace?”
“Done!” cried the Squire. “Good God! how should I know? Here you are in this state, all because of that d—d fellow Bellew and his d—d wife! What you want is some dinner.”
So saying, he put his arm around her, and half leading, half carrying, took her to her room.
They did not talk much at dinner, and of indifferent things, of Mrs. Barter, Peacock, the roses, and Beldame's hock. Only once they came too near to that which instinct told them to avoid, for the Squire said suddenly:
“I suppose you saw that woman?”
And Mrs. Pendyce murmured:
“Yes.”
She soon went to her room, and had barely got into bed when he appeared, saying as though ashamed: