I won't
be rash, but I think I'll try it,"
With this mixture of tender, selfish, and regretful thoughts in his
mind, it is no wonder Mr. Fletchcr's eyes betrayed him, as he lay
looking at Christie. Never had she read so badly, for she could not
keep her mind on her book. It would wander to that new and
troublesome fancy of hers; she could not help thinking that Mr.
Fletcher must have been a handsome man before he was so ill;
wondering if his temper was very bad, and fancying that he might
prove both generous and kind and true to one who loved and served
him well. At this point she was suddenly checked by a slip of the
tongue that covered her with confusion.
She was reading "John Halifax," and instead of saying "Phineas
Fletcher" she said Philip, and then colored to her forehead, and
lost her place. Miss Tudor did not mind it, but Mr. Fletcher
laughed, and Christie thanked Heaven that her face was half hidden
by the old brown hat.
Nothing was said, but she was much relieved to find that Mr.
Fletcher had joined a yachting party next day and he would be away
for a week. During that week Christie thought over the matter, and
fancied she had made up her mind. She recalled certain speeches she
had heard, and which had more weight with her than she suspected.
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