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Ward, Mrs. Humphry, 1851-1920

"The Mating of Lydia"


What had she been about? He had come in from hunting to find her absence
just discovered, and the house roused. Victoria and Cyril Boden were
exploring other roads through the garden and park; he had run down the
long hill to the station lodge in case the theory started at once by
Victoria that she had escaped, unknown to any one, in order to force an
interview with her father should turn out to be the right one.
Presently a trembling voice said in the darkness, while some soft curls
of hair tickled his cheek:
"I've been to Threlfall. Will Lady Tatham be very angry?"
"Well, she was a bit worried," said Tatham, wondering if the occasion
ought not to be improved. "She guessed--you might have gone there.
There's bad weather coming--and she was anxious what might happen to you.
Ah! there's the rain!"
Two or three large drops descended on Felicia's cheek as it lay upturned
on his shoulder; a pattering began on the oak-leaves overhead; the
moonlight was blotted out, and when Felicia opened her eyes, it was on a
heavy darkness.
"Stupid!" cried Tatham. "Why didn't I think of bringing a mackintosh
cape?"
"Mayn't I walk?" asked Felicia, meekly. "I think I could."
"I expect you'd better not. You were pretty bad when I found you. It's no
trouble to me to carry you, and I know every inch of these roads."
And indeed by now he would have been very loath to quit his task. There
was something tormentingly attractive in this warm softness of the girl's
tiny form upon his breast.


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