of jealousy,
a feeling that no one had a right even to talk of him except herself;
and she would smile to herself with a little scornful smile, because she
thought that she knew more about him, could understand him better than
them all. It was fortunate, perhaps, that the arbitrament of Cullerne
conversation did not rest with Anastasia, or there would have been but
little talking at this time; for if it seemed preposterous that others
should dare to discuss Lord Blandamer, it seemed equally preposterous
that they should take an interest in discussing anything else.

She certainly was _not_ in love; it was only the natural interest, she
told herself, that anyone--anyone with education and refinement--must
take in a strange and powerful character. Every detail about him
interested her. There was a fascination in his voice, there was a
melody in his low, clear voice that charmed, and made even trifling
remarks seem important. Did he but say it was a rainy afternoon, did he
but ask if Mr Westray were at home, there was such mystery in his tone
that no rabbinical cabalist ever read more between the lines than did
Miss Anastasia Joliffe. Even in her devotions thought wandered far from
the pew where she and her aunt sat in Cullerne Church; she found her
eyes looking for the sea-green and silver, for the nebuly coat in Abbot
Vinnicomb's window; and from the clear light yellow of the aureole round
John Baptist's head, fancy called up a whirl of faded lemon-coloured
acacia leaves, that were in the air that day the hero first appeared.

Yet, if heart wavered, head stood firm. He should never know her
interest in him; no word, no changing colour should ever betray her; he
should never guess that agitation sometimes scarcely left her breath to
make so short a rejoinder as "Good-night."

For three Saturdays, then, Miss Joliffe the elder sat on guard at
Bellevue Lodge; for three Saturday afternoons in succession, she sat and
chafed as the hours of the Dorcas meeting came and went. But nothing
happened; the heavens remained in their accustomed place, the minster
tower stood firm, and then she knew that the churchwarden had been
duped, that her own judgment had been right, that Lord Blandamer's only
motive for coming to her house had been to see Mr Westray, and that now
Mr Westray was gone Lord Blandamer would come no more. The fourth
Saturday arrived; Miss Joliffe was brighter than her niece had seen her
for a calendar month.