The woman in white, a novel . d. That mysterious adventure of yours, she said, still remains in-volved in its own appropriate midnight darkness. I have been allthe morning looking over my mothers letters, and I have made nodiscoveries yet. However, dont despair, Mr. Hartright. This is amatter of curiosity; and you have got a woman for your ally. Un-der such conditions success is certain, sooner or later. The lettersare not exhausted. I have three packets still left, and you may con-fidently rely on my spending the whole evening over them. Here, then, was one of my anticipations of the morning
The woman in white, a novel . d. That mysterious adventure of yours, she said, still remains in-volved in its own appropriate midnight darkness. I have been allthe morning looking over my mothers letters, and I have made nodiscoveries yet. However, dont despair, Mr. Hartright. This is amatter of curiosity; and you have got a woman for your ally. Un-der such conditions success is certain, sooner or later. The lettersare not exhausted. I have three packets still left, and you may con-fidently rely on my spending the whole evening over them. Here, then, was one of my anticipations of the morning still unful-filled. I began to wonder, next, whether my introduction to MissFairlie would disappoint the expectations that I had been formingof her since breakfiist-time. And how did you get on with inquired Miss Hal-combe, as we left the lawn and turned into a shrubbery. Was heparticularly nervous this morning? Never mind considering aboutyour answer, Mr. Ilartriglit. The mere fact of your being obliged to btl^l^. SHE AVAS STANDING NEAR A RUSTIC TAELS. TUE AVOMAX IN WHITE. consider is enough for me. I see in your face that he uas particular-ly nervous; and, as I am amiably unwilling to throvr you into theSHine condition, I ask no more. (^We turned off into a winding path while she was speaking, andapjDroached a pretty summer-house, built of wood, in the form of aminiature Swiss chalet. The one room of the summer-house, as wcascended the steps of the door, was occujjied by a young lady. Shewas standing near a ruj tic table, looking out at the inland view ofmoor and hill presented by a gap in the trees, and alosently turningover the leaves of a little sketch-book that lay at her side. This wasMiss Fairlie. How can I descrilje her ? How can I separate her from my ownsensations, and from all that has happened in the later time ? Howcan I see her again as she looked when my eyes first rested on her—as she should look, now, to the eyes that arc about to see her in thes
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Keywords: ., bookauthorcollinswilkie18241889, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870
