She no longer talked
of Tatham to her mother or any one else. But deep in her heart lay the
tenacious, pursuing instinct.
And besides--suppose--she made an impression on her father--on his cruel
old heart? Such things do happen. It's silly to say they don't. "I _am_
pretty--and now my clothes are all right--and my hands have come nearly
white. He'll see I'm not a girl to be ashamed of. And if my father did
give me a _dot_--why then I'd send my mother to _his_ mother! That's how
we'd do it in Italy. I'm as well-born as he--nearly--and if I had a
_dot_--"
The yellow-haired girl at any rate was quite out of the way. No one spoke
of her; no one mentioned her. That was all right.
And as to Threlfall and her father, if she was able to soften him at all
it would not be in the least necessary to drive that bad young man, Mr.
Faversham, to despair. Compromise--bargaining--settle most things. She
fell to imagining--with a Latin clearness and realism--how it might be
handled. Only it would have to be done before her father died. For if Mr.
Faversham once took all the money and all the land, there would be no
_dot_ for her, even if he were willing to give it her. For Lord Tatham
would never take a farthing from Mr. Faversham, not even through his
wife. "And so it would be no use to me," thought Felicia, quietly, but
regretfully.
Whitebeck station. Out she tripped, asked her way to Threlfall,
and hurried off into the dark, followed by the curious looks of the
station-master.
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