What Will He Do with It? — Volume 11Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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What Will He Do with It? — Volume 11
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
Her very heart was shut up, except where it could gush forth--nor even
then with full tide--in letters to Lady Montfort. Caroline had heard
from George's wife, with intense emotion, that Sophy was summoned to
Darrell's house, the gravity of Waife's illness being considerately
suppressed. Lady Montfort could but suppose that Darrell's convictions
had been shaken--his resolutions softened; that he sought an excuse to
see Sophy, and judge of her himself. Under this impression, in parting
with her young charge, Caroline besought Sophy to write to her constantly
and frankly. Sophy felt all inexpressible relief in this correspondence.
But Lady Montfort in her replies was not more communicative than Waife or
the Morleys; only she seemed more thoughtfully anxious that Sophy should
devote her self to the task of propitiating her host's affections. She
urged her to try and break through his reserve--see more of him; as if
that were possible! And her letters were more filled with questions
about Darrell than even with admonitions and soothings to Sophy. The
letters that arrived at Fawley were brought in a bag, which Darrell
opened; but Sophy noticed that it was with a peculiar compression of lip,
and a marked change of colour, that he had noticed the handwriting on
Lady Montfort's first letter to her, and that after that first time her
letters were not enclosed in the bag, but came apart, and were never
again given to her by her host.
Thus passed days in which Sophy's time was spent chiefly in Waife's sick-
room. But now he is regaining strength hourly. To his sitting-room
comes George frequently to relieve Sophy's watch. There, once a day,
comes Guy Darrell, and what then passed between the two men none
witnessed. In these hours Waife insisted upon Sophy's going forth for
air and exercise. She is glad to steal out alone-steal down by the banks
of the calm lake, or into the gloom of the mournful woods. Here she not
unfrequently encounters Fairthorn, who, having taken more than ever to
the flute, is driven more than ever to outdoor rambles, for he has been
cautioned not to indulge in his melodious resource within doors lest he
disturb the patient.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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