Would not
all this have come about if she had never seen that eyelid tremble,
and that slight quiver run up her sister's limbs? It would--she knew it
would.
Elizabeth thought of it as for a moment she stood in the passage, and a
cold hungry light came into her neutral tinted eyes and shone upon her
pale face. But she choked back the thought; she was scarcely wicked
enough to wish that her sister had not been brought back to life. She
only speculated on what might have happened if this had come about, just
as one works out a game of chess from a given hypothetical situation of
the pieces.
Perhaps, too, the same end might be gained in some other way. Perhaps
Mr. Davies might still be weaned from his infatuation. The wall was
difficult, but it would have to be very difficult if she could not find
a way to climb it. It never occurred to Elizabeth that there might be
an open gate. She could not conceive it possible that a woman might
positively reject Owen Davies and his seven or ten thousand a year, and
that woman a person in an unsatisfactory and uncongenial, almost in
a menial position.
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