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“This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. ” He replied. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. "My child!" he groaned faintly. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Montague Hill.
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