'It is too dreadful
to think of--a young woman dooming herself to life-long penury, just
because she is so foolish as to fall in love.'
'Your days for falling in love are over, I suppose, Lesbia?' said
Maulevrier, contemplating his sister with keen scrutiny.
The beautiful face, so perfect in line and colour, curiously recalled
that other face at Fellside; the dowager's face, with its look of marble
coldness, and the half-expressed pain under that, outward calm. Here was
the face of one who had not yet known pain or passion. Here was the cold
perfection of beauty with unawakened heart.
'I don't know; I am too busy to think of such things.'
'You have done with love; and you have begun to think of marriage, of
establishing yourself properly. People tell me you are going to marry
Mr. Smithson.'
'People tell you more about me than I know about myself.'
'Come now, Lesbia, I have a right to know the truth upon this point.
Your brother--your only brother--should be the first person to be told.'
'When I am engaged, I have no doubt you will be the first person, or the
second person,' answered Lesbia, lightly.
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