Ah! she had never guessed that secret yet, or found out the theft of the "Holy work," or her heart would have been even sorer than it was, and her thoughts more bitter and revengeful towards Amy.
Frances had never been thwarted; all had as yet gone smoothly with her; the bare possibility of the one great object in life—her love—being unvalued only made her the more determined to succeed. She had no softness, no gentleness of nature; her love was fierce and strong—headlong in its course; like a torrent it swept along, and carried away all and everything that impeded its course. There was no calm, no sunshine, no breaking of the heavy clouds; all was storm—would be until the end might be gained, and then—even then, there was a question if the troubled, angry spirit would be quiet, or at rest, or ever satisfied.
Charles did not re-enter the drawing room after dinner. "Gone for a smoke or prefers the company of Bob," was Alfred's ungracious rejoinder when his sister questioned him; so retiring to an ottoman in a far-off corner, Frances wrapt herself up in her thoughts, or, as Anne remarked, made herself as disagreeable as she could by refusing to join in any one game or amusement proposed. After fruitless attempts to strike up a flirtation with somebody, Anne walked off to bed, thinking a quiet chat with her sister was preferable to the dulness below.
As she reached the first landing on her way up stairs, a gust of cold wind from the sudden opening of the hall door made her pause and look round; and presently Mr. Hall's voice reached her: very pleasant and cheery she thought it sounded, and she could not resist the temptation of peeping over, just to see how he looked after his cold ride.
Yes, there he was, close by the fire, full in the light of the lamp, shaking himself like a large dog, his thick hair in a shocking tangled mass, but this was nothing unusual.
Anne smiled. "What a figure he is!" thought she, "such a great unwieldy creature!" and then half turned, as if to retrace her steps, but woman-like, fearful lest he should guess why she returned, magnanimously went on, but on reaching her own room, no Julia was there to unburden her vexations to, or talk herself into a more congenial mood with.
"She plays me this trick every night," said she, taking off her dress and throwing a shawl round her shoulders; then stirring up the fire into a blaze, she sat down and reviewed in her own mind the events of the day and the evening's dulness.
Some minutes slipped by; and then, whether she grew tired of being alone in that large room or vexed at her sister's prolonged absence she determined on going in quest of her.
Springing up, away she went to Miss Tremlow's room, and receiving no reply to her repeated knocks for admission, cautiously opened the door and went in, expecting to find her sister.