'Where is Dorothy?' says the excited Lady Mottisfont.
'She has her--she won't let her go for a time--'
'Has her? But she's MINE--she's mine!' cries Lady Mottisfont.
Then her quick and tender eyes perceived that her husband had almost
forgotten her intrusive existence in contemplating the oneness of
Dorothy's, the Countess's, and his own: he was in a dream of
exaltation which recognized nothing necessary to his well-being
outside that welded circle of three lives.
Dorothy was at length brought home; she was much fascinated by the
Countess, and saw nothing tragic, but rather all that was truly
delightful, in what had happened. In the evening, when the
excitement was over, and Dorothy was put to bed, Sir Ashley said,
'She has saved Dorothy; and I have been asking myself what I can do
for her as a slight acknowledgment of her heroism. Surely we ought
to let her have Dorothy to bring up, since she still desires to do
it? It would be so much to Dorothy's advantage. We ought to look
at it in that light, and not selfishly.'
Philippa seized his hand. 'Ashley, Ashley! You don't mean it--that
I must lose my pretty darling--the only one I have?' She met his
gaze with her piteous mouth and wet eyes so painfully strained, that
he turned away his face.
The next morning, before Dorothy was awake, Lady Mottisfont stole to
the girl's bedside, and sat regarding her. When Dorothy opened her
eyes, she fixed them for a long time upon Philippa's features.
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