“Thank you,” he replied, and let his glance say more.
The Colonies were interesting. It was the year of new fishery arrangements with America and France. The Member for Hackney made a point of knowing all about them. He intended to ask Launa for information; he felt singularly elated at the prospect of seeing her again.
He was not particularly fond of fishing nor of bills, but information on all subjects was acceptable to him. He prided himself on knowing the views of the people for whom he was legislating.
CHAPTER XVIII
Shelton cannot be described; it lay along the river, near heavenly back waters, where reeds rustled, and the rushes sighed softly, and it was within reach of the woods.
They all went there, each one hiding their real feelings from the others, except Mrs. Cooper. Her feelings were described by the word blissful; she derived much satisfaction from the donning of her best dress every day. It was made of silk; in her youth a lady was dressed in nothing but silk. Driving every day with a footman, and having a maid to button her boots, completed her happiness. She never noticed her daughter’s depression. Sylvia had recovered. She was more silent, just as good-looking, and Mr. George hovered about her with sympathy in his eye and with sorrowful attentions.
Mr. Wainbridge, Paul, and the Member for Hackney each felt the inhabitants of the cottage were under his special protection, and each one frowned at the frequent visits of the others.
Paul had received and accepted his invitation before he had told Launa to give up Mr. Wainbridge, and he came to Shelton. All was not yet lost. Mr. Wainbridge was obviously nervous. Launa looked unhappy. To her life in the country was a relief. Of late the strain on her mind had been trying. Paul’s presence was a comfort to her, with an underlying feeling of torture, of the intolerableness of fate, life, destiny.
Mr. Wainbridge made continual demands on her feelings—demands which sometimes were hard, impossible to fulfil, especially that she should love him.