And the electric light in the pillared porch threw
long rays toward them.
"Please put me down," said Felicia, with decision. "I can walk quite
well."
He obeyed her. But her weakness was still such, that she could only walk
with help. Guiding, supporting her, he half led, half carried her along.
As they reached the lighted porch, she looked up, her face sparkling with
rain, a touch of mischief in her hollow-ringed eyes.
"How much will they scold?"
"Can't say, I am sure! I think you'll have to bear it."
"Never mind!" Her white cheeks dimpled. "It's Duddon! I'd rather be
scolded at Duddon, than petted anywhere else."
Tatham flushed suddenly. So did she. And as the door opened Felicia
walked with composure past the stately butler.
"Is Lady Tatham in the library?"
Netta Melrose, full of fears, wept that evening over her daughter's rash
disobedience. Victoria administered what reproof she could; and Felicia
was reduced to a heated defence of herself, sitting up in bed, with a
pair of hot cheeks and tearful eyes. But when all the lights were out,
and she was alone, she thought no more of any such nips and pricks. The
night was joy around her, and as she sank to sleep; Tatham, in dream,
still held her, still carried her through the darkness and the rain.
XX
While Felicia was making her vain attempt upon her father's pity,
Faversham was sitting immersed in correspondence in his own room at the
farther end of the gallery.
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