Free Can You Forgive Her? by Anthony Trollope Page A

which she had been so anxious when she first opened her lover’s letter. It will be remembered how assured she had expressed herself that Mr Grey would not condescend to object to her travelling with her cousin. He had not so condescended. He had written on the matter with a pleasantjoke, like a gentleman as he was, disdaining to allude to the past passages in the life of her whom he loved, abstaining even from expressing anything that might be taken as a permission on his part. There had been in Alice’s words, as she told him of their proposed plan, a something that had betrayed a tremor in her thoughts. She had studiously striven so to frame her phrases that her tale mightbe told as any other simple statement, – as though there had been no trembling in her mind as she wrote. But she had failed, and she knew that she had failed. She had failed; and he had read all her effort and all her failure She was quite conscious of this; she felt it thoroughly: and she knew that he was noble and a gentleman to the last drop of his blood. And yet – yet – yet there was almosta feeling of disappointment in that he had not written such a letter as Lady Macleod had anticipated.
    During the next week Lady Macleod still came almost daily toQueen Anne Street, but nothing further was said between her and Miss Vavasor as to the Swiss tour; nor were any questions asked about Mr Grey’s opinion on the subject The old lady of course discovered that there was no quarrel, or,as she believed, any probability of a quarrel; and with that she was obliged to be contented. Nor did she again on this occasion attempt to take Alice to Lady Midlothian’s. Indeed, their usual subjects of conversation were almost abandoned, and Lady Macleod’s visits, though they were as constant as heretofore, were not so long. She did not dare to talk about Mr Grey, and because she did not so dare,was determined to regard herself as in a degree ill-used. So she was silent, reserved and fretful. At length came the last day of her London season, and her last visit to her niece. ‘I would come because it’s my last day’ said Lady Macleod; ‘but really I’m so hurried, and have so many things to do, that I hardly know how to manage it.’
    ‘It’s very kind,’ said. Alice, giving her aunt an affectionatesqueeze of the hand.
    ‘I’m keeping the cab, so I can just stay twenty-five minutes. I’ve marked the time accurately, but I know the man will swear it’s over the half-hour.’
    ‘You’ll have no more trouble about cabs, aunt, when you are back in Cheltenham.’
    ‘The flies are worse 1 , my dear. I really think they’re worse. I pay the Mil every month, but they’ve always one down that I didn’t have. Ifs the regular practice, for I’ve had them from all the men in the place.’
    ‘It’s hard enough to find honest men anywhere, I suppose.’
    ‘Or honest women either. What do you think of Mrs Green wanting to charge me for an extra week, because she says I didn’t give her notice till Tuesday morning? I won’t pay her, and she may stop my things if she dares. However, it’s the last time. I shall nevercome up to London again, my dear.’
    ‘Oh, aunt, don’t say that!’
    ‘But I do say it, my dear. What should an old woman like me do, trailing up to town every year, merely because if s what people choose to call the season,’
    ‘To see your friends, of course. Age doesn’t matter when a person’s health is so good as yours’
    ‘If you knew what I suffer from lumbago, – though I must say coming to Londonalways does cure that for the time. But as for friends –! Well, I suppose one has no right to complain when one gets to be as old as I am; but I declare I believe that those I love best would sooner be without me than with me.’
    ‘Do you mean me, aunt?’
    ‘No, my dear, I don’t mean you. Of course my life would have been very different if you could have consented to remain with me till you were married.But I didn’t mean