"No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “I wonder what happened. Sheppard, and neither deserve nor desire your thanks. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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