"
Mademoiselle was conscious of an actual physical drag at her
heartstrings. The pulsating glow of her young loveliness had never
been more moving and oh! the sublime certainty of her unconsciousness
that Life lay between this hour and that day when she was "quite
old and not pretty any more" and having made economies could die
in a little cottage in the country! She believed in her vision as
she had believed that Donal would come to her in the garden.
Upon Feather the revelation that her daughter had elected to
join the ranks of girls who were mysteriously determined to be
responsible for themselves produced a curious combination of effects.
It was presented to her by Lord Coombe in the form of a simple
impersonal statement which had its air of needing no explanation.
She heard it with eyes widening a little and a smile slowly growing.
Having heard, she broke into a laugh, a rather high-pitched treble
laugh.
"Really?" she said. "She is really going to do it? To take a
situation! She wants to be independent and 'live her own life!'
What a joke--for a girl of mine!" She was either really amused or
chose to seem so.
"What do YOU think of it?" she asked when she stopped laughing.
Her eyes had curiosity in them.
"I like it," he answered.
"Of course. I ought to have remembered that you helped her to an
Early Victorian duchess. She's one without a flaw--the Dowager
Duchess of Darte.
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