They smiled and thought it
natural. Lillian, who knew every expression of her sister's
face, grew anxious, fearing there was some ailment either of body
or mind of which none of them were aware.
They believed she was thinking of her absent lover and feeling
dull without him. In reality her thoughts were centered upon one
idea--what could she do to get rid of Hugh Fernely? Morning,
noon, and night that one question was always before her. She
talked when others did, she laughed with them; but if there came
an interval of silence the beautiful face assumed a far-off
dreamy expression Lillian had never seen there before. Beatrice
was generally on her guard, watchful and careful, but there were
times when the mask she wore so bravely fell off, and Lillian,
looking at her then, knew all was not well with her sister.
What was to be done to get free from Hugh? Every hour in the day
fresh plans came to her--some so absurd as to provoke feverish,
unnatural laughter, but none that were feasible. With all her
daring wit, her quick thought, her vivid fancy--with all her
resource of mind and intellect, she could do nothing.
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