"Take care, Catherine!"
Old Catherine, who had come out with shawls, was dangerously near the
wheels--and the horses were on the point of starting. She stepped back,
and the carriage drove on.
The bustle had aroused Sibylla. She rose to look from the window; saw
the carriage depart, saw Catherine come in, saw Lionel walk away towards
Deerham. It was all clear in the moonlight. Lucy Tempest was looking
from the other window.
"What a lovely night it is!" Lucy exclaimed. "I should not mind a drive
of ten miles, such a night as this."
"And yet they choose to say that going out would hurt me!" spoke Sibylla
in a resentful tone. "They do it on purpose to vex me."
Lucy chose to ignore the subject; it was not her business to enter into
it one way or the other. She felt that Mrs. Verner had done perfectly
right in remaining at home; that her strength would have been found
unequal to support the heat and excitement of a ballroom, following on
the night air of the transit to it. Lovely as the night was, it was
cold: for some few evenings past the gardeners had complained of frost.
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