And it might rain when I got
there after all! My trouble nobody knows. Nobody knows a thing!
The night before my departure, Miss Pollingray did me the honour to
accompany me up to my bedroom. She spoke to me searchingly about Charles;
but she did not demand compromising answers. She is not in favour of
early marriages, so she merely wishes to know the footing upon which we
stand: that of friends. I assured her we were simply friends. 'It is the
firmest basis of an attachment,' she said; and I did not look hurried.
But I gained my end. I led her to talk of the beautiful Marquise. This is
the tale. Mr. Pollingray, when a very young man, and comparatively poor,
went over to France with good introductions, and there saw and fell in
love with Louise de Riverolles. She reciprocated his passion. If he would
have consented to abjure his religion and worship with her, Madame de
Riverolles, her mother, would have listened to her entreaties. But
Gilbert was firm. Mr. Pollingray, I mean, refused to abandon his faith.
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