Sir James
Chide was to dine at Beechcote that night. He was expected early, would
take in Beechcote, indeed, on his way from the train to Lytchett. Who
else should advise her if not he? In a hundred ways, practical and
tender, he had made her understand that, for her mother's sake and her
own, she was to him as a daughter.
She mentioned him to Fanny.
"Of course"--she hurried over the words--"we need only say that you have
been engaged. We must consult him, I suppose, about--about breach of
promise of marriage."
The odious, hearsay phrase came out with difficulty. But Fanny's eyes
glistened at the name of the great lawyer.
Her feelings toward the man who had betrayed her were clearly a medley
of passion and of hatred. She loved him as she was able to love; and she
wished, at the same time, to coerce and be revenged on him. The
momentary sense of shame had altogether passed. It was Diana who, with
burning cheeks, stipulated that while Fanny must not return to town, but
must stay at Beechcote till matters were arranged, she should not
appear during Sir James's visit; and it was Fanny who said, with
vindictive triumph, as Diana left her in her room; "Sir James'll know
well enough what sort of damages I could get!"
* * * * *
After dinner Diana and Sir James walked up and down the lime-walk in the
August moonlight.
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