BOOK THE SIXTH. PAULA.
I.
‘I have decided that I cannot see Sir William again: I shall go away,’ said Paula on the evening of the next day, as she lay on her bed in a flushed and highly-strung condition, though a person who had heard her words without seeing her face would have assumed perfect equanimity to be the mood which expressed itself with such quietness. This was the case with her aunt, who was looking out of the window at some idlers from Markton walking round the castle with their eyes bent upon its windows, and she made no haste to reply.
‘Those people have come to see me, as they have a right to do when a person acts so strangely,’ Paula continued. ‘And hence I am better away.’
‘Where do you think to go to?’
Paula replied in the tone of one who was actuated entirely by practical considerations: ‘Out of England certainly. And as Normandy lies nearest, I think I shall go there. It is a very nice country to ramble in.’
‘Yes, it is a very nice country to ramble in,’ echoed her aunt, in moderate tones. ‘When do you intend to start?’
‘I should like to cross to-night. You must go with me, aunt; will you not?’
Mrs. Goodman expostulated against such suddenness. ‘It will redouble the rumours that are afloat, if, after being supposed ill, you are seen going off by railway perfectly well.’
‘That’s a contingency which I am quite willing to run the risk of. Well, it would be rather sudden, as you say, to go to-night. But we’ll go to-morrow night at latest.’ Under the influence of the decision she bounded up like an elastic ball and went to the glass, which showed a light in her eye that had not been there before this resolution to travel in Normandy had been taken.