“They both expect it, but there has not been time yet; he only went yesterday; now do lie still, dear, or you will bring on your fever again, and we shall not go home on Monday.”
Hilary laid her head back on her pillows, and remained perfectly quiet for the rest of the evening. She resolved not to think of Captain Hepburn, or to bewilder herself in conjectures relative to any thing uncertain or unpleasant; she resolutely quieted her mind, banishing doubt and conjecture, which are worse and more irritating to the weak, than certainty of evil, and dwelling only on soothing subjects.
Her self-discipline and mental government were successful, and were rewarded by finding her strength as much improved the next day as she could have expected. She was able to resume her usual dress, and sit up in the adjoining room, where the balmy air of a sweet summer Sunday morning seemed every minute to add to her strength. She kept her resolution, however, of not going down stairs, or joining the family party, in spite of Victoria’s urgent entreaties. It was quite true, that her head would not as yet bear much noise, and she had no intention of risking a relapse, by taking liberties too early.
She must, of course, have an interview with Charles eventually, and thank him for his share in saving her life, but she rather shrank from the thought; she hoped it was not ingratitude, she really did feel thankful to him; and had there been no recollections of former conversations and past professions to trouble her, she would have been ready and anxious to express her gratitude. But now she feared to say either too little or too much; she dreaded to raise hopes which she had once trusted were extinguished, and she had a vague foreboding that any sort of emotion would inevitably lead to painful and perplexing discoveries.
As memory had resumed its power, a distinct impression of his words and tone when he reached her in the water, impressed itself on her mind with unaccountable accuracy and vividness; and though it was not usually her way to shrink from duty, even if painful, or to put off the evil day, with that weak procrastination which often trebles the suffering by unnecessary and prolonged anticipation, she determined to delay this interview to the very last, that escape to her own home might immediately follow.
Her resolutions, however, were over-ruled, and her wishes set aside, by the stronger will, and less scrupulous determinations of others. Charles and Victoria were alike decided, that she should see him; and Hilary found herself actually without a choice, although nominally consulted on the occasion.
It was in the afternoon; the family had returned from church, and Gwyneth, who had remained at home to read to Hilary, was persuaded by her to go down stairs, and if Maurice was at leisure, to ask him to come and sit with her. A knock at the door a few minutes afterward, made her suppose he was there; but in answer to her invitation, Victoria entered, inquired how she did, whether she was equal to conversation: and on Hilary’s cheerfully assuring her that she was going on nicely, Miss Fielding added, in a manner which left her almost without choice—
“You will not mind, then, seeing Charles for a moment, who is dying of impatience to kiss your hand.”
As she said this, she admitted Mr. Huyton into the room, and then turned toward the toilette table, where she busied herself with her back to Hilary, in searching among caskets and drawers for unknown articles, with an evident determination not to see or hear any thing else; which was extremely distressing to her friend, however pleasant it might be to her cousin.
Surprised and flurried by an intrusion so unexpected and unwelcome, Hilary’s pale cheeks flushed, and her hand trembled, as she endeavored to rise from her easy chair to meet her host. Somehow she hardly understood how, she was gently put back