"
At the death-like face in its golden hair, Aurelia's voice choked in
her throat, and it was in an unnatural hoarse tone that she tried to
say, "Sir--Sir Amyas--"
"I trust he will soon be better," said Mr. Belamour, marking her dismay
and grief with his wonted kindness, "but his arm needs the surgeon,
and I must be going. Let Lady Belamour sit here, Mrs. Aylward. I
trust you with the knowledge. It was my nephew, in disguise, who
wedded her, unknown to her. She is entirely blameless. Let Jumbo
fetch her a cordial. There, my child, take this chair, so that his
eyes may fall on you when he opens them. Bathe his head if you will.
I shall return quickly after having sped the groom on his journey."
Gloomy and doubtful were the looks cast on Aurelia by the housekeeper,
but all unseen by the wondering, bewildered, remorseful eyes fixed
on the white face on the pillow, heedless of its perfect symmetry of
feature, and knowing only that this was he who had thrilled her heart
with his tender tones, who had loved her so dearly, and dared so much
for her sake, but whom her impatience and distrust had so cruelly
injured. Had she seen him strong, well, and ardent, as she had so
lately heard him, her womanhood would have recoiled indignantly at
the deception which had stolen her vows; but the spectacle of the
young senseless face and prostrate form filled her with compassion,
tenderness, and remorse, for having yielded to her sister's
persuasions.
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