With
Lilian, to understand a sorrow was to ask herself what she could do
for its assuagement. A thought of characteristic generosity came to
her. Why should she not (some day or other, when their friendship
was mature) offer Mrs. Wade the money, her own property, which would
henceforth be lying idle? There would be practical difficulties in
the way, but surely they might be overcome. The idea brought a smile
to her face. Yes; she would think of this. She would presently talk
of it with Denzil.
"Come now," said Mrs. Wade, rousing herself from meditation, "let us
talk about the Irish question."
Lilian addressed herself conscientiously to the subject, but it did
not really interest her; she had no personal knowledge of Irish
hardships, and was wearied by the endless Parliamentary debate. Her
thoughts still busied themselves with the hopeful project for
smoothing Mrs. Wade's path in life.
When the carriage came for her, she took her leave with regret, but
full of happy imaginings. She had quite forgotten the all but
self-betrayal into which she was led during that chat about novels.
Two days later Quarrier was again absent from home on business, and
Lilian spent the evening with the Liversedges. Supper was over, and
she had begun to think of departure, when the drawing-room door was
burst open, and in rushed Denzil, wet from head to foot with rain,
and his face a-stream with perspiration.
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