Set them up with it, indeed! Neither would my dear,
darling, sweet, precious Herbert treat me so, and I'm a wretch to
think of it!" said Cap, with a rich, inimitable unction as,
rejoicing in her own happy love, she cheered Gyp and rode on.
Now, Craven Le Noir had been conscious of the relenting and
compassionate looks of Capitola, but he did not know that they were
only the pitying regards of a noble and victorious nature over a
vanquished and suffering wrong-doer. However, he still determined to
be cautious, and not ruin his prospects by precipitate action, but
to "hasten slowly."
So the next time he met Capitola he raised his eyes with one deep,
sad, appealing gaze to hers, and then, bowing profoundly, passed on,
"Poor man," said Cap to herself, "he bears no malice toward me for
depriving him of his sweetheart; that's certain. And, badly as he
behaved, I suppose it was all for love, for I don't know how any one
could live in the same house with Clara and not be in love with her.
I should have been so myself if I'd been a man, I know!"
The next time Cap met Craven and saw again that deep, sorrowful,
appealing gaze as he bowed and passed her, she glanced after him,
saying to herself:
"Poor soul, I wonder what he means by looking at me in that piteous
manner? I can do nothing to relieve him. I'm sure if I could I
would.
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