There had been a
pleading tone in her voice, an appealing softness in her glances. But
now the expression of her face changed all at once; the beautiful
countenance grew cold and stern, the haughty lip quivered with the
agony of offended pride.
"Enough!" she said. "I will never again trouble you, Mr. Ashburne, by
entreating your merciful consideration. Let your judgment be the
judgment of the world. I am content to await the hour of my
justification; I am content to trust in Time, the avenger of all
wrongs, and the consoler of all sorrows. In the meanwhile, I will stand
alone--a woman without a friend, a woman who has to fight her own
battles with the world."
Gilbert Ashburne could not withhold his respect from the woman who
stood before him, queen-like in her calm dignity.
"She may be the basest and vilest of her sex," he thought to himself,
as he left her presence; "but she is a woman whom it is impossible to
despise."
The funeral procession was to leave Raynham at noon. At eleven o'clock
the arrival of Mr. Dale and Mr. Douglas Dale was announced. These two
gentlemen had just arrived at the castle, and the elder of the two
requested the favour of an interview with his uncle's widow.
She was seated in one of the apartments which had been allotted to her
especial use when she arrived, a proud and happy bride, from her brief
honeymoon tour.
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