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emember that I was a grown-up man and at work, when you were in long
clothes. And think of the mercy of this--if I had come here, as I ought
to have done, and had known you as a little girl, you would have become
a sort of niece to me, and all this could never have happened--it would
all have been different."
"Well, we won't think of THAT," said Maud decisively. "I was rather a
horrid little girl, and I am glad you didn't see me in that stage!"
One day he found her a little sad, and she confessed to having had a
melancholy dream. "It was a big place, like a square in a town, full of
people," she said. "You came down some steps, looking unhappy, and went
about as if you were looking for me; and I could not attract your
attention, or get near you; once you passed quite close to me and our
eyes met, and I saw you did not recognise me, but passed on."
Howard laughed. "Why, child," he said, "I can't see anyone else but you
when we are in the same room together--my faculty of observation has
deserted me. I see every movement you make, I feel every thought you
think; you have bewitched me! Your face comes between me and my work;
you will quite ruin my career. How can I go back to my tiresome boys
and my old friends?"
"Ah, I don't want to do THAT!" said Maud. "I won't be a hindrance; you
must just hang me up like a bird in a cage--that's what I am--to sing
to you when you are at leisure."
XXIII
THE WEDDING
The way in which the people at Windlow took the news was very
characteristic. Howard frankly did not care how they regarded it. Mr.
Sandys was frankly and hugely delighted. He apologised to Howard for
having mentioned the subject of Guthrie to him.
"The way you took it, Howard," he said, "was a perfect model of
delicacy and highmindedness! Why, if I had dreamed that you cared for
my little girl, I would have said, and truly said, that the dearest
wish of my heart had been fulfilled. But one is blind, a parent is
blind; and I had somehow imagined you as too sedate, as altogether too
much advanced in thought and experience, for such a thing. I would
rather have bitten out my tongue than spoken as I did to you. It is
exactly what my dear girl needs, some one who is older and wiser than
herself--she needs some one to look up to, to revere; she is thoughtful
and anxious beyond her years, and she is made to repose confidence in a
mind more mature. I do not deny, of course, that your position at
Windlow mak
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