"Yes. It would be right; and, presuming him to have the vice, I could be
of immense service to him, if at least he does not lie habitually. But
this is a description of treachery, you know."

"Oh!" cried Emilia, "what kind of treachery is that, if he only will keep
his heart open for me to give all mine to it!"

She stood clutching her hands in the half-sobbing ecstasy which
signalises a spiritual exaltation built on disquiet. She had shown small
emotion hitherto. The sight of it was like the sight of a mighty hostile
power to Lady Charlotte--a power that moved her--that challenged, and
irritated, and subdued her. For she saw there something that she had
not; and being of a nature leaning to great-mindedness, though not of the
first rank, she could not meanly mask her own deficiency by despising it.
To do this is the secret evil by which souls of men and women stop their
growth.

Lady Charlotte decided now to say good-bye. Her parting was friendly--
the form of it consisting of a nod, an extension of the hand, and a kind
word or two.

When alone, Emilia wondered why she kept taking long breaths, and tried
to correct herself: but the heart laboured. Yet she seemed to have no
thought in her mind; she had no active sensation of pity or startled
self-love. She went to smooth Mr. Pole's pillow, as to a place of
forgetfulness. The querulous tyrannies of the invalid relieved her; but
the heavy lifting of her chest returned the moment she was alone. She
mentioned it to the doctor, who prescribed for liver, informing her that
the said organ conducted one of the most important functions of her
bodily system.