It did not come to her that she should be
in sackcloth and ashes for causing him such woeful pain and misery.
She only tried to remember how he looked, as many a love-sick maiden
hath done heretofore. She pictured the rich colouring of his cheeks
and how his dark eyes had looked into hers; and she remembered how
once he had thus beheld her, his glance sweeping her face, then he had
taken her hand and pressed his lips to it passionately. Her face grew
rose red and she trembled with ecstasy. She, so perfect in mould
and health, was capable of extravagant and overpowering emotion; a
rapturous exaltation that filled her and took possession of her whole
being. She tried to turn her thoughts to Sir Julian, and wondered
vaguely why he had not come to London. He had intended leaving the
castle before this; and why had he not found her? He might know she
would like to inquire of those at home,--the Duke of Ellswold and the
others that were ill. The thought seemed to grow upon her, and she
wondered more and more why no one had been sent after her, and how
very welcome Sir Julian would be.
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