“No, I have no secrets with her!”
“Then, since the right of choice is mine, and you will say nothing to direct me, I choose your company, ladies; and if I choose wrong, the consequences be on you, who refused me your advice and counsel.”
Hilary wished she had only had the courage to say that he had better ride!
The drive to the Abbey would have been pleasant after all, could she have forgotten both the past and the future. Mr. Huyton was not disagreeable; on the contrary, he was once more in one of those moods which made her doubt whether her former fears had not been the mere illusions of vanity. Kind and just quietly attentive to her, to Victoria he devoted all his gallantry, and pretty nearly all his conversation. They were both in good spirits, and without being particularly clever
or witty, they were exceedingly amusing and pleasant. But the painful uncertainty which these abrupt variations of manner occasioned, was not to be allayed by an hour’s calm, or by a temporary remission of his attentions. She was uneasy and anxious still, doubting the wisdom of her own decision in accepting Victoria’s invitations, and only succeeding in putting away harassing and useless perplexities, that they might give place to other feelings at least as painful. Dora and Maurice! their difficulties and distresses were too real and too new not to deserve undivided attention, and she felt as if she were even unkindly selfish, as she reverted to them, in having allowed thoughts for herself to occupy her mind.
Fast as the four horses swept along, they hardly went quick enough for her impatience at last, when she remembered the grief and anxiety from which her brother was suffering at home. She tried to still herself, and be patient and quiet, knowing well that eagerness and impetuosity were not the qualities wanted on this occasion to carry her point. But, with all her efforts, every nerve was thrilling, and every pulse seemed beating through her frame, as they drove up to the Abbey; and engrossed in her own thoughts now, far away from recollections of herself, she was unconscious of her abstracted and very pensive air, and quite unaware of the glances cast on her, and the meaning looks interchanged by her companions.
Charles and Victoria were very far indeed, from guessing what was the subject which occupied her mind; as far as Hilary herself was from supposing that they attributed her nervous and uneasy expression to pique at his manner, or jealousy of Miss Fielding.
He left them in the hall, to go to Mr. Barham’s library, while the young ladies were shown into Isabel’s morning-room, where she and Lady Margaret were sitting together. Miss Barham’s reception was a very warm one; she was delighted to find Hilary was equal to the exertion, and for some minutes her delight prevented her taking any real notice of how unwell her friend appeared. The paleness of her cheeks, and anxiety of
her manner, did at last strike Isabel; and Hilary, who had been nervously waiting for a pause, in which she might find time to inquire for Dora, was prevented from doing it at all by an exclamation—
“After all, you look very tired and exhausted, Hilary, dear; I shall forbid you mixing in conversation, and insist on quiet and repose for you. Suppose you were to go to Dora’s room. It would not excite you too much, and you do not look as if you would overwhelm her.”