Weaker than a Woman — page 96: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mit aces NES bis ak WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 87 “T should like that best,” she said, with a smile so sud- den and so beautiful that the happy recipient of it lost his presence of mind at once. Violet wished to be alone; she wanted time to think, to still the thrilling of her nerves; but she was mistaken in imagining that she would find solitude ina boat with a solitary companion. However, no man was ever more completely deceived—Violet sat listening to him witha flush on her face and a smile on her lips. He thought that he was making a great impression on her, whereas she was congratulating herself that she was not compelled to hear or to answer his compliments. She tried to think but she could not; the only thing she could remember was that she might be Lady Chevenix and mistress of all she saw, if she liked. What would people say? They had spoken of Sir Owen almost as though he were an inhabitant of a brighter sphere. She had heard his probable marriage discussed almost as an arrangement of State; no one under the rank of Lady Rolfe’s daughter had ever been thought of for him—and now he had asked her. She had heard the future of his wife, when he should have one, discussed many times—how she would go to - court, and be one of the high ones of the earth, because of her husband’s great wealth; and now this honor had fallen on her. How wonderful it seemed! Of course she must not talk about it; but before she finally refused him she would like certain people to know what a brilliant offer had been made to her—people who had not always treated her as their equal. The boat was touching the shore, and a dozen hands were stretched out to assist her. It seemed to her only a few - moments since they had started, yet they had been all -around the lake. She looked up with a bewildered smile at her companion as he spoke a few polite words; he seemed to know by instinct then that this girl had chosen the boat as a kind of refuge. Then Sir Owen came and claimed her—she must have some refreshment—and he re- mained by her side until the round red sun set and the fete was over. She watched it sink behind Larch Hill, and she felt that she would never see its crimson light again in the sky without remembering what had been said there. There was an hour for rest before the dressing for the ball began. “Tf you are wise,” said Lavinia Rolfe, “you will try to sleep for an hour, and then have some tea—that will re- _ store you after the fatigue of the day.” Gomicboo “S (E(o) ae.