It
was all a nightmare of scaring queer sensations, of things that could
never be settled. She was stirred for once out of all her normal
conquering philosophy. Her thoughts flew back to Miltoun. That which she
had seen in their faces, then, had come to pass! And picturing Agatha's
horror, when she came to hear of it, Barbara could not help a smile.
Poor Eustace! Why did he take things so hardly? If he really carried out
his resolve--and he never changed his mind--it would be tragic! It would
mean the end of everything for him!
Perhaps now he would get tired of Mrs. Noel. But she was not the sort
of woman a man would get tired of. Even Barbara in her inexperience
felt that. She would always be too delicately careful never to cloy him,
never to exact anything from him, or let him feel that he was bound to
her by so much as a hair. Ah! why couldn't they go on as if nothing had
happened? Could nobody persuade him? She thought again of Courtier.
If he, who knew them both, and was so fond of Mrs. Noel, would talk to
Miltoun, about the right to be happy, the right to revolt? Eustace ought
to revolt! It was his duty. She sat down to write; then, putting on her
hat, took the note and slipped downstairs.
CHAPTER XIX
The flowers of summer in the great glass house at Ravensham were keeping
the last afternoon-watch when Clifton summoned Lady Casterley with the
words:
"Lady Valleys in the white room.
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