To Bettina's sensitively alert mind it was
plain that it would not do in the least to drag her suddenly out of her
prison, or cloister, whichsoever it might be. To do so would be like
forcing a creature accustomed only to darkness, to stare at the blazing
sun. To have burst upon her with the old impetuous, candid fondness
would have been to frighten and shock her as if with something bordering
on indecency. She could not have stood it; perhaps such fondness was
so remote from her in these days that she had even ceased to be able to
understand it.
"Where are your little girls?" Bettina asked, remembering that there had
been notice given of the advent of two girl babies.
"They died," Lady Anstruthers answered unemotionally. "They both died
before they were a year old. There is only Ughtred."
Betty glanced at the boy and saw a small flame of red creep up on his
cheek. Instinctively she knew what it meant, and she put out her hand
and lightly touched his shoulder.
"I hope you'll like me, Ughtred," she said.
He almost started at the sound of her voice, but when he turned his face
towards her he only grew redder, and looked awkward without answering.
His manner was that of a boy who was unused to the amenities of polite
society, and who was only made shy by them.
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