At last, the very worst person--she thought--to take
notice. Uncle Reginald, did so, and, under cover of a general rising,
said sternly, 'Stop that, or go out.'
Stop that! Much did the colonel know about a girl's tears, or how she
would have given anything to check them. But here was Aunt Lily edging
down to her, taking her by the hand, leading her out, she did not know
how, stopping all who would have come after them with help--then
pausing a little in the open, frosty air.
'Oh, Aunt Lily! I am very sorry!'
'Never mind that, my dear. Do you feel poorly?'
'Oh no; I'm quite well--only--'
'Only overcome--I don't wonder--my dear--can you walk quietly home with
me?'
'Yes, please.'
Nothing was said till they had passed the 'idle corner,' where men and
half-grown lads smoked their pipes in anything but Sunday trim; and
stared at the lady making her exit, till they were through the short
street with shop windows closed, and a strong atmosphere of cooking,
and had come into the quiet lane leading to the paddock. Then Lady
Merrifield laid her hand on the girl's shoulder very gently, and said,
'It was too much for you, my dear, you are not quite strong yet.'
'Oh yes; I'm well. Only I am so very--very miserable,' and the gust of
sobs and tears rushed on her again.
'Dear child, I should like to be able to help you!'
'You can't! I've done it! And--and they'll all be against me always--
Uncle Regie and all!'
'Uncle Regie was very much hurt, but I'm sure he will forgive you when
he sees how sorry you are.
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