The Egoist eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 555 pages of information about The Egoist.

Before midnight the room was empty.  Ten minutes later Willoughby paid it a visit, and found it untenanted by the person he had engaged to be there.  Vexed by his disappointment, he paced up and down, and chanced abstractedly to catch the rug in his hand; for what purpose, he might well ask himself; admiration of ladies’ work, in their absence, was unlikely to occur to him.  Nevertheless, the touch of the warm, soft silk was meltingly feminine.  A glance at the mantel-piece clock told him Laetitia was twenty minutes behind the hour.  Her remissness might endanger all his plans, alter the whole course of his life.  The colours in which he painted her were too lively to last; the madness in his head threatened to subside.  Certain it was that he could not be ready a second night for the sacrifice he had been about to perform.

The clock was at the half hour after twelve.  He flung the silken thing on the central ottoman, extinguished the lamps, and walked out of the room, charging the absent Laetitia to bear her misfortune with a consciousness of deserving it.

CHAPTER XL

MidnightSir Willoughby and LaetitiaWith young Crossjay under A coverlet

Young Crossjay was a glutton at holidays and never thought of home till it was dark.  The close of the day saw him several miles away from the Hall, dubious whether he would not round his numerous adventures by sleeping at an inn; for he had lots of money, and the idea of jumping up in the morning in a strange place was thrilling.  Besides, when he was shaken out of sleep by Sir Willoughby, he had been told that he was to go, and not to show his face at Patterne again.  On the other hand, Miss Middleton had bidden him come back.  There was little question with him which person he should obey:  he followed his heart.

Supper at an inn, where he found a company to listen to his adventures, delayed him, and a short cut, intended to make up for it, lost him his road.  He reached the Hall very late, ready to be in love with the horrible pleasure of a night’s rest under the stars, if necessary.  But a candle burned at one of the back windows.  He knocked, and a kitchen-maid let him in.  She had a bowl of hot soup prepared for him.  Crossjay tried a mouthful to please her.  His head dropped over it.  She roused him to his feet, and he pitched against her shoulder.  The dry air of the kitchen department had proved too much for the tired youngster.  Mary, the maid, got him to step as firmly as he was able, and led him by the back-way to the hall, bidding him creep noiselessly to bed.  He understood his position in the house, and though he could have gone fast to sleep on the stairs, he took a steady aim at his room and gained the door cat-like.  The door resisted.  He was appalled and unstrung in a minute.  The door was locked.  Crossjay felt as if he were

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The Egoist from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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