But Mr.
Vane," the note of bitterness had vanished; her voice was now earnest,
almost grave, "you weren't despondent when you were facing an angry mob
after doing me a service I shall never forget. You underrate yourself."
"Oh, I admit that when alone I'm like a boat at the mercy of wind and
wave, but with some one to inspire--to guide--bah, 'tis useless talking
of the unattainable."
Vane uttered the last words in a reckless tone and with a shrug of the
shoulders. His eyes gazed yearningly, despairingly into hers, and there
had never been a time in Lavinia's life when she was less able to
withstand a wave of heartfelt emotion.
Her nerves at that moment were terribly unstrung. She had had a most
exhausting day lasting from early dawn. The strain of the trying
interview at Twickenham; the anxious ordeal of singing before such
supreme judges as she deemed them; the jubilation of success and the
praise they had bestowed upon her, and Gay's promises as to her future
had turned her brain for the time being. Then the episode of the
highwayman--that in itself was sufficiently disturbing.
As a matter of fact the girl's strength was ebbing fast when she reached
Moor Fields, but she nerved herself to go on, confident of her reward in
relieving the young author's anxiety and his joy at the success--up to a
point--of her errand. Things had not quite turned out as she had
pictured them.
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