The Dean was triumphant.
"My dear Miss Lyster," he said, presently, finding himself near that
lady, "did you ever hear anything better done? A most remarkable
talent!"
Mary smiled.
"I am wondering," she said, "what they teach you in French convents--and
why! It is all so singular,--isn't it?"
* * * * *
Late that night Ashe entered his room--before his usual time, however.
He had tired even of Lord Grosville's chat, and had left the
smoking-room still talking. Indeed, he wished to be alone, and there was
that in his veins which told him that a new motive had taken possession
of his life.
He sat beside the open window reviewing the scenes and feelings of the
day--his interview with Kitty in the morning--the teasing coquette of
the afternoon--the inspired poetic child of the evening. Rapidly, but
none the less strongly and steadfastly, he made up his mind. He would
ask Kitty Bristol to marry him, and he would ask her immediately.
Why? He scarcely knew her. His mother, his family would think it
madness. No doubt it was madness. Yet, as far as he could explain his
impulse himself, it depended on certain fundamental facts in his own
nature--it was in keeping with his deepest character.
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