Mr. Hope escorted Genevieve home, and was kept to dinner. They
narrated that they had found the public-house open, and the bar full
of noisy runaways.
The burns were dreadful, but the surgeon did not think they would be
fatal, and the child had held Genevieve's hand throughout the
dressing, and seemed so unwilling to part with her, that she had
promised to come again the next day, and had been thanked gratefully.
There seemed no positive want of comforts, and there was every hope
that all would do well.
Genevieve looked pale after the scene she had gone through, and could
not readily persuade herself to eat, still less rally her spirits to
talk; but she managed to avoid observation at dinner-time, and
afterwards a rest on the sofa restored her. She evidently felt, as
she said, that this was coming home, and her exquisite gift of tact
making her perceive that she was to be at ease and on an equality,
she assumed her position without giving her friends the embarrassment
of installing her, and Mr. Hope was in such a state of transparent
admiration, that Albinia could not help two or three times
noiselessly clapping her hands under the table, and secretly thanking
the rioters and their tag-rag and bob-tail for having provided a home
for little Genevieve Durant.
There was indeed a pang as she thought of Gilbert; but she believed
that Genevieve's heart had never been really touched, and was still
fresh and open.
Pages:
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745