Still raining--alack! She thought with longing of the open
fields, and the shooters. Was there to be no escape all day from the
ugly oppressive house, and some of its inmates? Half shyly, yet with a
quickening of the heart, she remembered Marsham's farewell to her of
that morning, his look of the night before. Intellectually, she was
comparatively mature; in other respects, as inexperienced and
impressionable as any convent girl.
"I fear luncheon is impossible!" said Lady Lucy's voice.
Diana looked up and saw her descending the stairs.
"Such a pity! Oliver will be so disappointed."
She paused beside her guest--an attractive and distinguished figure. On
her white hair she wore a lace cap which was tied very precisely under
her delicate chin. Her dress, of black satin, was made in a full plain
fashion of her own; she had long since ceased to allow her dressmaker
any voice in it; and her still beautiful hands flashed with diamonds,
not however in any vulgar profusion. Lady Lucy's mother had been of a
Quaker family, and though Quakerism in her had been deeply alloyed with
other metals, the moral and intellectual self-dependence of Quakerism,
its fastidious reserves and discrimination were very strong in her.
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