"
"No one ever called me nervous," replied Beatrice, with a smile,
controlling herself with an effort; "mamma's chief complaint
against me was that I had no nerves;" adding presently to
herself: "This can not last. I would rather die at once that
live in this agony."
The weary day came to a close, however, and it was well for
Beatrice that Lord Airlie had not spent it with her. The
gentlemen at Earlescourt had all gone to a bachelor's dinner,
given by old Squire Newton of the Grange. It was late when they
returned, and Lord Airlie did not notice anything unusual in
Beatrice.
"I call this a day wasted," he said, as he bade her goodnight;
"for it has been a day spent away from you. I thought it would
never come to an end."
She sighed, remembering what a dreary day it had been to her.
Could she live through such another? Half the night she lay
awake, wondering if Hugh's answer to her letter would come by the
first post, and whether Lord Earle would say anything if he
noticed another letter from Brookfield. Fortune favored her. In
the morning Lord Earle was deeply engrossed by a story Lionel was
telling, and asked Beatrice to open the bag for him.
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