'No truth in any _part_ of
it?'
'None.'
He had been standing by a chair, enjoying the relief of leaning on it, or
of playing with it. He now sat down, drew it a little nearer to her, and
looked with an expression which had something more than penetration in
it--something softer. Her countenance did not discourage. It was a
silent but a very powerful dialogue; on his supplication, on hers
acceptance. Still a little nearer, and a hand taken and pressed; and
'Anne, my own dear Anne!' bursting forth in all the fulness of exquisite
feeling,--and all suspense and indecision were over. They were
re-united. They were restored to all that had been lost. They were
carried back to the past with only an increase of attachment and
confidence, and only such a flutter of present delight as made them
little fit for the interruption of Mrs. Croft when she joined them not
long afterwards. _She_, probably, in the observations of the next ten
minutes saw something to suspect; and though it was hardly possible for a
woman of her description to wish the mantua-maker had imprisoned her
longer, she might be very likely wishing for some excuse to run about the
house, some storm to break the windows above, or a summons to the
Admiral's shoemaker below.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226