She had begged her uncle to excuse her presence, and he had
merely bowed to her wishes without commenting upon them. He may have
been angry with her, but since she had heard him laughing and jesting
with his companions as they passed through the hall, or went along the
terrace, she concluded that her absence did not greatly trouble him.
There were guests at the Abbey now who hardly knew her, some who did not
know her at all, and she was missed so little by Mrs. Dearmer and her
friends that they no longer troubled to laugh at her. She was as she had
been before her visit to London, only that now she understood more; she
was no longer a child. She had not seen Sydney Fellowes again before his
departure, but she had no anger in her heart against him. He had
insulted her, but it was done under the influence of wine, and in
reality he was perchance more genuinely her friend than any other guest
who frequented the Abbey. Had he not said that this was no home for her?
Lord Rosmore she had seen for a few moments before he had set out to
join the militia marching westward. He was courtly in his manner when he
bid her farewell, declared that she would know presently that he had
only interfered to save her from a scoundrel, and he left her with the
assurance that he was always at her command.
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