The Real Charlotte. 369 



said Francie, with the same lifelessness of voice that had 

 characterised her throughout. 



" I'll borrow the money — I'll raise it on the furniture j 

 I'll send the horses up to Sewell's, though God knows what 

 price I'll get for them this time of year, but I'll manage it 

 somehow. I'll go out to Gurthnamuckla this very afternoon 

 about it. Charlotte's got a head on her shoulders — " He 

 stood still, and the idea of borrowing from Charlotte herself 

 took hold of him. He felt that such trouble as this must 

 command her instant sympathy, and awaken all the warmth 

 of their old friendship, and his mind turned towards her 

 stronger intelligence with a reliance that was creditable to 

 his ideas of the duties of a friend. " I could give her a bill 

 of sale on the horses and furniture," he said to himself. 



His eyes rested for the first time on Francie, who had 

 sunk into the chair from which he had risen, and was look- 

 ing at him as if she did not see him. Her hair was ruffled 

 from lying on his shoulder, and her eyes were wild and 

 fixed, like those of a person who is looking at a far-off 

 spectacle of disaster and grief. 



CHAPTER L. 



The expected rain had not come, though the air was heavy 

 and damp with the promise of it. It hung unshed, above 

 the thirsty country, looking down gloomily upon the dusty 

 roads, and the soft and straight young grass in the meadows j 

 waiting for the night, when the wind would moan and cry 

 for it, and the newborn leaves would shudder in the dark at 

 its coming. 



At three o'clock Francie was sure that the afternoon 

 would be fine, and soon afterwards she came downstairs in 

 her habit, and went into the drawing-room to wait for the 

 black mare to be brought to the door. She was going to 

 ride towards Gurthnamuckla to meet Lambert, who had 

 gone there some time before; he had made Francie promise 

 to meet him on his way home, and she was going to keep 

 her word. He had become quite a different person to her 

 since the morning, a person who no longer appealed to her 

 admiration or her confidence, but solely and distressingly 

 to her pity. She had always thought of him as invincible, 



2 A 



