Esther’s Narrative

           WecamehomefromMr.Boythorn’saftersixpleasantweeks.Wewereoftenintheparkandinthewoodsandseldompassedthelodgewherewehadtakenshelterwithoutlookingintospeaktothekeeper’swife;butwesawnomoreofLadyDedlock,exceptatchurchonSundays.TherewascompanyatChesneyWold;andalthoughseveralbeautifulfacessurroundedher,herfaceretainedthesameinfluenceonmeasatfirst.Idonotquiteknowevennowwhetheritwaspainfulorpleasurable,whetheritdrewmetowardsherormademeshrinkfromher.IthinkIadmiredherwithakindoffear,andIknowthatinherpresencemythoughtsalwayswanderedback,astheyhaddoneatfirst,tothatoldtimeofmylife.Ihadafancy,onmorethanoneoftheseSundays,thatwhatthisladysocuriouslywastome,IwastoherImeanthatIdisturbedherthoughtsassheinfluencedmine,thoughinsomedifferentway.ButwhenIstoleaglanceatherandsawhersocomposedanddistantandunapproachable,Ifeltthistobeafoolishweakness.Indeed,Ifeltthewholestateofmymindinreferencetohertobeweakandunreasonable,andIremonstratedwithmyselfaboutitasmuchasIcould.OneincidentthatoccurredbeforewequittedMr.Boythorn’shouse,Ihadbettermentioninthisplace.IwaswalkinginthegardenwithAdawhenIwastoldthatsomeonewishedtoseeme.Goingintothebreakfast-roomwherethispersonwaswaiting,IfoundittobetheFrenchmaidwhohadcastoffhershoesandwalkedthroughthewetgrassonthedaywhenitthunderedandlightened.

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