She had tottered
across to her sitting-room and had spent the day there alone, writing a
few letters, or sitting motionless in her chair for hours together. She
had scarcely eaten, and Mrs. Colwood was sure she had not slept at all
since the shock. It was to be hoped that out of sheer fatigue she might
sleep, on this, the second night. But it was essential there should be
no fresh excitement, such as the knowledge of Marsham's arrival would
certainly arouse.
Mrs. Colwood could hardly bring herself to speak of Fanny Merton. She
was, of course, still in the house--sulking--and inclined to blame
everybody, her dead uncle in particular, rather than herself. But,
mercifully, she was departing early on the Monday morning--to some
friends in London.
"If you come after breakfast you will find Miss Mallory alone. I will
tell her first thing that you are here."
Marsham assented, and got up to take his leave. Involuntarily he looked
round the drawing-room where he had first seen Diana the day before.
Then it was flooded by spring sunshine--not more radiant than her face.
Now a solitary lamp made a faint spot of light amid the shadows of the
panelled walls.
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