The Widow Barnaby. Vol. 3 (of 3)Trollope, Frances Milton
General
The Widow Barnaby. Vol. 3 (of 3)
Trollope, Frances Milton
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction
These were the questions that now addressed themselves to her, making
her utterly incapable of hearing the continued string of musical
interrogatories which went on beside her. The short interval during
which Colonel Hubert retained his attitude, and continued his
conversation seemed an age, and expectation was growing sick, and almost
merging in despair, when at last the lady turned to answer a question
from her neighbour, and Colonel Hubert stood upright and cast his eyes
upon the company.
Her emotion was too powerful to permit bashfulness to take any part in
it; she sought his eye, and met it. In a moment all suffering was over,
and all anxiety a thousand fold overpaid, for the look she encountered
was all her heart could wish. At the first glance, indeed, he evidently
did not know her; it was that of a wandering speculative eye that seemed
looking out for occupation, and had she quite understood it aright, she
might have perceived that it was arrested by a sort of sudden suspicion
that it had found something worth pausing upon. But this lasted not
above the tenth part of an instant, and then he darted forward; his fine
proud countenance expressive of uncontrollable agitation, and the
rapidity with which he approached her was such as to show pretty plainly
that he forgot it was a crowded drawing-room he was traversing.
By the time he reached her, however, short as the interval was, the glow
that had lighted up her face when it first arrested his eye had faded
into extreme paleness, and when he spoke to her, she trembled so
violently as to be quite unable to articulate. Colonel Hubert perceived
her agitation, and felt that it approached in some degree to his own.
Had he been twenty-five, this would have probably been all he wished to
see; as it was, he felt a dreadful spasm at the heart, as the hateful
thought occurred that after what had passed there might be two ways in
which it might be interpreted. But it was a passing pang; and longing to
present her to his aunt and sister, and at the same time release her
from the embarrassing curiosity so conspicuous in the manner of her
neighbour, he held the hand she extended to him while he said--
"Let me lead you to Lady Elizabeth, Miss Willoughby; both she and Lady
Stephenson are in the next room, and will be delighted to see you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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