She knew how
silent the sleeping woods would be--how dark and still the
night. She could imagine Hugh's face, browned by the sun and
travel. Poor Hugh! In the overflow of her happiness she felt
more kindly toward him.
She wished him well. He might marry some nice girl in his own
station of life, and be a prosperous, happy man, and she would be
a good friend to him if he would let her. No one would ever know
her secret. Lillian would keep it faithfully, and down the fair
vista of years she saw herself Lord Airlie's beloved wife, the
error of her youth repaired and forgotten.
The picture was so pleasant that it was no wonder her songs grew
more triumphant. Those who listened to the music that night
never forgot it.
Chapter XXXVII
Lionel Dacre stood for some minutes stunned with the shock and
surprise. He could not be mistaken; unless his senses played him
false, it was Lillian Earle whom he had mistaken for a maid
meeting her lover. It was Lillian he had believed so pure and
guileless who had stolen from her father's home under the cover
of night's darkness and silence--who had met in her father's
grounds one whom she dared not meet in the light of day.
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