'Is it anything like the proposal
you made, when you were on your last visit here?' The doctor laughed.
'To-morrow won't be long in coming,' he says. 'Patience, my
lord--patience.' There was no getting him to say a word more. Now, what
am I to do? How am I to get a chance of listening to him, out in an
open garden, without being seen? There's what I mean when I say he has
beaten me. It's you, my lady--it's you who will suffer in the end."
"You don't _know_ that, Fanny."
"No, my lady--but I'm certain of it. And here I am, as helpless as
yourself! My temper has been quiet, since my misfortune; it would be
quiet still, but for this." The one animating motive, the one
exasperating influence, in that sad and secret life was still the
mistress's welfare--still the safety of the generous woman who had
befriended and forgiven her. She turned aside from the table, to hide
her ghastly face.
"Pray try to control yourself." As Iris spoke, she pointed kindly to a
chair. "There is something that I want to say when you are composed
again. I won't hurry you; I won't look at you. Sit down, Fanny."
She appeared to shrink from being seated in her mistress's presence.
"Please to let me go to the window," she said; "the air will help me.
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