She repeated to him
the gist of what Susan had reported the night before, putting it
lightly--apologetically--as though statements so extravagant had only
to be made to be disproved. His mind meanwhile was divided between
strained attention, and irrepressible delight in the spectacle of Lydia
enthroned in her mother's chair, of the pale golden hair rippling back
from the broad forehead, and the clear eyes beneath the thin dark arch of
the brows, so delicately traced on the white skin; of all the play of
gesture and expression that made up her beauty. Existence for him during
these weeks of her absence had largely meant expectation of this moment.
He had discounted all that she would probably say to him; his replies
were ready.
And she no sooner paused than he began an eager and considered defence of
himself. A defence which, as he explained, he had intended to make weeks
before. He had called the very day after their hurried departure for
London; and having missed them, had then decided to wait till they could
talk face to face. _Le papier est bete!_ "I had too much to say!"
Well, when he had said it, to what did it amount? He claimed the right to
tell the whole story; and began therefore by tracing the steps by which
he had become necessary to Melrose; by describing his astonishment when
the offer of the agency was made to him; and the sudden rush of plans and
hopes for the future. Then, by a swift and effective digression he
sketched the character of Melrose, as he had come to know it; the
ferocity of the old man's will; his mad obstinacy, in which there was
always a touch of fantastic imagination; and those alternations of
solitude and excitement, with the inevitable, accompanying defiance of
all laws of health, physical and moral, which for years had made up his
life.
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