sperate, by the fear that
disease, which had laid a threatening finger on her, might lay its
whole hand cutting short her playtime and breaking her many toys. Of
anything other than toys and playtime she had no conception.--"Those
brutes of doctors tell Tobermory I must give up low gowns," she wrote.
"And I adore my neck and shoulders. Every one always has admired them.
It makes me utterly miserable to cover them up. And now that I am
thinner I could have my gowns cut lower than ever, nearly down to my
waist, which makes it all the more intolerable. I went to Dessaix about
it, went over to Paris on purpose, though Tobermory was wild at my
traveling in the heat. He--Dessaix, I mean, not poor T.--was just as
nice as possible, and promised to invent new styles. Still, of course,
I must look dowdy at night in a high gown. Everybody does. I shall feel
exactly like our clergyman's wife at Ellerhay, when she comes to dine
with us at Christmas and Easter and once in the summer. I refuse to
have her oftener than that. She has a long back and about fourteen
children, which she seems to think a great credit to her. I don't, as
they are ugly, and she is dreadfully poor. She wears her Sunday silk
with lace _wound_ about, don't you know, but wound _tight_. That means
full dress. I am buying some lace, Duchesse at three and a half guineas
a yard. I suppose I shall come to _winding_ that of an evening. Then I
shall look like her. It makes me cry dreadfully, and, as I tell
Tobermory, that is worse for me than any number of lungs. Darling H.,
if you really love me in the least, bring nothing but high gowns.
Perhaps I mayn't mind quite so much if I never see you in a low
one."--There had been much more to the same effect, pathetic in its
inadequacy and egoism. Only, as Honoria reflected, that is a style of
pathos dangerously liable to pall upon one. She sighed, for the
prospect of spending the winter participating in the frivolities, and
striving to restrain the indiscretions of this little, damaged
butterfly, did not smile upon her. She might have stayed on here,
stayed on at Brockhurst, worked over the dear place as she had so often
done before--helping Lady Calmady. Why had she promised?--Well--because
she had been rather restless, unsettled, and at loose ends of late----

Whereupon the young lady bent down and unfastened the padlock with a
certain decision of movement, closed the gate, relocking it carefully
behind her, and started of