The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, or
rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag,
mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that his
love to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever.
Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then what
would become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted as
that of a nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on the
means supplied by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had
soon been exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting
from Ridley's bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her as
the fishermen's dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement this,
or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in his
concoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which was of a device
learnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. There was something
strangely delightful to her in thus supporting Leonard even though he
knew it not, and she determined to persist in her present course till
there was some change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor's marriage to
some one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple face. She must
find a glass, or even a pail of water, and judge! Or the Lancastrian
fortunes might revive, he might go home in triumph, and then would
she give him her ring and her renunciation, and either earn enough to
obtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted for the sake of
her handiwork!
Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew upon
her as Leonard recovered only made it sadder.
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