"I mean it will be more appreciated," and she turned
upon her heel.
Owen Davies ventured no further remarks. He felt that Elizabeth's manner
was a little crushing, and he was afraid of her as well. "I suppose that
she does not think I am good enough to pay attention to her sister," he
thought to himself as he plunged into the night and rain. "Well, she is
quite right--I am not fit to black her boots. Oh, God, I thank Thee
that Thou hast saved her life. I thank Thee--I thank Thee!" he went on,
speaking aloud to the wild winds as he made his way along the cliff. "If
she had been dead, I think that I must have died too. Oh, God, I thank
Thee--I thank Thee!"
The idea that Owen Davies, Esq., J.P., D.L., of Bryngelly Castle,
absolute owner of that rising little watering-place, and of one of
the largest and most prosperous slate quarries in Wales, worth in all
somewhere between seven and ten thousand a year, was unfit to black
her beautiful sister's boots, was not an idea that had struck Elizabeth
Granger. Had it struck her, indeed, it would have moved her to laughter,
for Elizabeth had a practical mind.
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