And all the world of
England was so banded in league with the slave-driver against the
soul he enslaved, that if Miss Blake had seen her she could hardly
have come in: while, once in, she must tremble and whisper and
steal about with muffled feet, for fear of discovery in this
innocent adventure. He held his breath with stifled wrath. It
was painful and degrading.
But he had no time just then to think much of all this, for there
sat Frida, tremulous and shivering before his very eyes, trying
hard to hide her beautiful white face in her quivering hands, and
murmuring over and over again in a very low voice, like an agonised
creature, "I couldn't BEAR not to be allowed to say good-bye to you
for ever."
Bertram smoothed her cheek gently. She tried to prevent him, but
he went on in spite of her, with a man's strong persistence.
Notwithstanding his gentleness he was always virile. "Good-bye!" he
cried. "Good-bye! why on earth good-bye, Frida? When I left you
before dinner you never said one word of it to me."
"Oh, no," Frida cried, sobbing. "It's all Robert, Robert! As soon
as ever you were gone, he called me into the library--which always
means he's going to talk over some dreadful business with me--and
he said to me, 'Frida, I've just heard from Phil that this man
Ingledew, who's chosen to foist himself upon us, holds opinions and
sentiments which entirely unfit him from being proper company for
any lady.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153