She was
positively determined to think, and think again, until she had found
a means of checking the growing intimacy with the Bygraves at once and
forever. In the solitude of her own room she recovered her composure,
and set herself for the first time to review the conclusions which she
had gathered from the events of the day.
There was something vaguely familiar to her in the voice of this
Miss Bygrave, and, at the same time, in unaccountable contradiction,
something strange to her as well. The face and figure of the young lady
were entirely new to her. It was a striking face, and a striking figure;
and if she had seen either at any former period, she would certainly
have remembered it. Miss Bygrave was unquestionably a stranger; and
yet--
She had got no further than this during the day; she could get no
further now: the chain of thought broke. Her mind took up the fragments,
and formed another chain which attached itself to the lady who was kept
in seclusion--to the aunt, who looked well, and yet was nervous; who was
nervous, and yet able to ply her needle and thread. An incomprehensible
resemblance to some unremembered voice in the niece; an unintelligible
malady which kept the aunt secluded from public view; an extraordinary
range of scientific cultivation in the uncle, associated with a
coarseness and audacity of manner which by no means suggested the idea
of a man engaged in studious pursuits--were the members of this small
family of three what they seemed on the surface of them?
With that question on her mind, she went to bed.
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