"
There was some difficulty in finding Lillian; she was discovered
at last in the library, looking over some fine old engravings
with Mr. Dacre. He looked up hastily when Beatrice asked her
sister to spare her half an hour.
"Do not go, Lily," he said, jestingly; "it is only some nonsense
about wedding dresses. Let us finish this folio."
But Beatrice had no gay repartee for him. She looked grave,
although she tried to force a smile.
"I can not understand that girl," he said to himself, as the
library door closed behind the two sisters. "I could almost
fancy that something was distressing her."
"Lily," said Beatrice, "I want you very much. I am sorry to take
you from Lionel; you like being with him, I think."
The fair face of her sister flushed warmly.
"But I want you, dear," said Beatrice. "Oh, Lily, I am in bitter
trouble! No one can help me but you."
They went together into the little boudoir Beatrice called her
own. She placed her sister in the easy lounging chair drawn near
the window, and then half knelt, half sat at her feet.
"I am in such trouble, Lily!" she cried.
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