My blood with thrilling motion flew:
Trembling all o’er, like one ill pleased,
Perhaps I from his hold withdrew.
T’was fear alone—he read me wrong—
Had he retained my hand, ere long
He had felt its pressure too.
Gay.
Two tedious solitary days were still to be passed before Emmeline expected Fitzhenry at Arlingford. Being secure that she had the house all to herself she felt a strong inclination to go into his room, which she had never yet entered. It would be, she thought, the next best thing to seeing himself. Treading softly, as if fearful he might hear her, she put her hand on the lock—looked round to see if she was observed, and then hastily turned it. The door was locked.
The noise she made brought a housemaid out of an adjoining room.—”The door is locked my lady: when my lord went away, he desired the housekeeper to keep the key, but I will step to Mrs. Brown and fetch it, if your ladyship wants any thing.”
“Oh no, it is of no consequence,” said Emmeline, colouring deeply, as if detected in some crime.