In Hamley there were but two in whom she
had any real comfort and help--Lady Eglington and the old chair-maker. Of
an afternoon or evening one or the other was to be seen in the long
high-wainscoted room, where a great fire burned, or in the fruitless
garden where the breeze stirred the bare branches.
Almost as deep a quiet brooded in the Cloistered House as in the home
where mourning enjoined movement in a minor key. Hylda had not recovered
wholly from the illness which had stricken her down on that day in London
when she had sought news of David from Eglington, at such cost to her
peace and health and happiness. Then had come her slow convalescence in
Hamley, and long days of loneliness, in which Eglington seemed to retreat
farther and farther from her inner life. Inquiries had poured in from
friends in town, many had asked to come and see her; flowers came from
one or two who loved her benignly, like Lord Windlehurst; and now and
then she had some cheerful friend with her who cared for music or could
sing; and then the old home rang; but she was mostly alone, and Eglington
was kept in town by official business the greater part of each week.
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