Leonora gathered that
from the look in his eyes, and from the way he straightened his
shoulders over her as she lay in her coffin--from that and a
thousand other little things. She would speak suddenly about
Florence to the girl and he would not start in the least; he would
not even pay attention, but would sit with bloodshot eyes gazing at
the tablecloth. He drank a good deal, at that time--a steady soaking
of drink every evening till long after they had gone to bed.
For Leonora made the girl go to bed at ten, unreasonable though
that seemed to Nancy. She would understand that, whilst they
were in a sort of half mourning for Florence, she ought not to be
seen at public places, like the Casino; but she could not see why
she should not accompany her uncle upon his evening strolls
though the park. I don't know what Leonora put up as an
excuse--something, I fancy, in the nature of a nightly orison that
she made the girl and herself perform for the soul of Florence.
And then, one evening, about a fortnight later, when the girl,
growing restive at even devotional exercises, clamoured once
more to be allowed to go for a walk with Edward, and when
Leonora was really at her wits' end, Edward gave himself into her
hands.
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