Mrs. de Burgh afterwards sent over to inquire after her cousin, and once Mr. de Burgh, having occasion to ride into the neighbourhood, called to see Trevor, and brought back word of his progress towards recovery. The injury proved, however more tedious than it had at first been anticipated. October had set in before he was allowed to walk; but still Mary's spirits did not fail her. If "love could live upon one smile for years," much more throughout a few weeks of such unavoidable and accidental contingency. CHAPTER XI. I thank thee for that downcast look, and for that blushing cheek, I would not have thee raise those eyes, I would not have thee speak. Tho' mute, I deem thee eloquent, I ask no other sign, While thus thy little hand remains confidingly in mine. HAYNES BAYLEY. A friend of Mrs. de Burgh's came to stay at Silverton about this time, a lady of a certain age. She had lately lost her husband. Though malicious report spoke her to have loved him little during life, she now mourned with considerable effect at his decease; and though there was but the family party--for which circumstance she had been prepared--staying in the house--this being the first visit she had paid since her bereavement, she had not yet--though several days had elapsed since her arrival--been able to muster sufficient nerve to issue from the luxurious apartments assigned to her. Mr. de Burgh maliciously expressed himself fearful that the cap was not becoming, hearing that the dainty, but not unsubstantial meals so plentifully partaken of by the fair widow in her retreat, did not well agree with any very wearing sentiment of grief. But Mrs. de Burgh said it was just like his ill-nature on every subject connected with _her_ friends--and _faute de mieux_, rather enjoyed the lounge of Mrs. Trevyllian's room, where she spent a great part of her time. One evening, about the end of three weeks after Eugene Trevor's accident, having remained talking to Mary some time after they had left the dining-room, Mrs. de Burgh announced herself obliged to go up stairs to Mrs. Trevyllian, for the rest of the evening, that lady having made her promise so to do, she being in more than usually bad spirits that day. "I know you do not mind a quiet evening for once," she added, "and I have already seen you cast many a wistful glance at those books on the table, whilst I have been talking nonsense; so make yourself comfortable and if you find it dull come up to us. Mrs. Trevyllian will not mind you. You will not have Louis' company to-night, for he has ordered candles in the library, and means to adjourn there with his landscape gardener when he leaves the dining room." Mary was accordingly left in solitary possession of the fair saloon, through which the soft clear lamps and ruddy fire cast so cheerful a radiance, feeling quite capable of appreciating the enjoyment, nay luxury, of occasional solitude of the kind under similar auspices.