The sense of her true position toward him revealed
itself in all its horror as the confession of her love escaped
her lips. Her arms dropped from him; she flung herself back on
the sofa-cushions, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh, leave me!"
she moaned, faintly. "Go! go!"
Horace tried to wind his arm round her, and raise her. She
started to her feet, and waved him back from her with a wild
action of her hands, as if she was frightened of him. "The
wedding present!" she cried, seizing the first pretext that
occurred to her. "You offered to bring me your mother's present.
I am dying to see what it is. Go and get it!"
Horace tried to compose her. He might as well have tried to
compose the winds and the sea.
"Go!" she repeated, pressing one clinched hand on her bosom. "I
am not well. Talking excites me--I am hysterical; I shall be
better alone. Get me the present. Go!"
"Shall I send Lady Janet? Shall I ring for your maid?"
"Send for nobody! ring for nobody! If you love me--leave me here
by myself! leave me instantly!"
"I shall see you when I come back?"
"Yes! yes!"
There was no alternative but to obey her. Unwillingly and
forebodingly, Horace left the room.
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