Mrs.
Adair could be good company when she chose, and she chose now. But it
was not to any purpose.
"I don't believe that you hear a single word I am saying!" she
exclaimed.
Ethne laughed and pleaded guilty. She betook herself to her room as soon
as lunch was finished, and allowed herself an afternoon of solitude.
Sitting at her window, she repeated slowly the story which Willoughby
had told to her that morning, and her heart thrilled to it as to music
divinely played. The regret that he had not come home and told it a year
ago, when she was free, was a small thing in comparison with the story
itself. It could not outweigh the great gladness which that brought to
her--it had, indeed, completely vanished from her thoughts. Her pride,
which had never recovered from the blow which Harry Feversham had dealt
to her in the hall at Lennon House, was now quite restored, and by the
man who had dealt the blow. She was aglow with it, and most grateful to
Harry Feversham for that he had, at so much peril to himself, restored
it. She was conscious of a new exhilaration in the sunlight, of a
quicker pulsation in her blood. Her youth was given back to her upon
that August afternoon.
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