With that she dropped down in a sitting position on the hearthrug, and, embracing her knees with her lily arms and stooping her head down upon them, wept copiously. She went to bed later, and her last thought was a truly Christian one, “Poor dear old Camilla! Her death would not do me the least good in the world, and I sincerely hope she may live to the age of Methuselah.”
CHAPTER XXXI
Miss Ransome’s eyes looked heavy next morning at breakfast. That her hostess noticed the fact was made apparent by a remark that followed her first glance at her guest.
“I suppose you were very sorry to leave Stillington?”
“What an ass I was to cry!” was the unspoken response to this question. The spoken one ran more subtilely—
“As sorry as I could be when I was so exceedingly glad too.”
“It seems delightfully natural to see you here,” responded Felicity, with not inferior fondness. “But I must not have you looking pale because I keep you up listening to my tiresome worries; of course, they are multiplied tenfold since you were here last.”
She paused to heave a sigh at the thought of the burden of her new prosperities, and Bonnybell gently echoed it at the pensive reflection how easily her own shoulders would bear the load were it transferred to them.
“I shall send you out for a walk this morning,” continued Lady Bletchley. “You look as if you wanted air.”
Bonnybell’s heart leapt at the prospect thus indicated of a solitude tempered by shops, but her voice repelled the suggestion.