Chapter 9 - Page 2

however, at the time, and but little on any other; for, finding I could not well recover my equanimity, I presently rose and took leave, excusing myself under the plea of business at the farm; and to the farm I went, not troubling my mind one whit about the possible truth of these mysterious reports, but only wondering what they were, by whom originated, and on what foundations raised, and how they could the most effectually be silenced or disproved.

A few days after this we had another of our quiet little parties, to which the usual company of friends and neighbours had been invited, and Mrs. Graham among the number. She could not now absent herself under the plea of dark evenings or inclement weather, and, greatly to my relief, she came. Without her I should have found the whole affair an intolerable bore; but the moment of her arrival brought new life to the house, and though I might not neglect the other guests for her, or expect to engross much of her attention and conversation to myself alone, I anticipated an evening of no common enjoyment.

Mr. Lawrence came too. He did not arrive till some time after the rest were assembled. I was curious to see how he would comport himself to Mrs. Graham. A slight bow was all that passed between them on his entrance; and having politely greeted the other members of the company, he seated himself quite aloof from the young widow, between my mother and Rose.

'Did you ever see such art?' whispered Eliza, who was my nearest neighbour. 'Would you not say they were perfect strangers?'

'Almost; but what then?'

'What then; why, you can't pretend to be ignorant?'

'Ignorant of what?' demanded I, so sharply that she started and replied, -

'Oh, hush! don't speak so loud.'

'Well, tell me then,' I answered in a lower tone, 'what is it you mean? I hate enigmas.'

'Well, you know, I don't vouch for the truth of it - indeed, far from it - but haven't you heard -?'

'I've heard nothing, except from you.'

'You must be wilfully deaf then, for anyone will tell you that; but I shall only anger you by repeating it, I see, so I had better hold my tongue.'

She closed her lips and folded her hands before her, with an air of injured meekness.

'If you had wished not to anger me, you should have held your tongue from the beginning, or else spoken out plainly and honestly all you had to say.'

She turned aside her face, pulled out her handkerchief, rose, and went to the window, where she stood for some time, evidently dissolved in tears. I was astounded, provoked, ashamed - not so much of my harshness as for her childish weakness. However, no one seemed to notice her, and shortly after we were summoned to the tea-table: in those parts it was customary to sit to the table at tea-time on all occasions, and make a meal of it, for we dined early. On taking my seat, I had Rose on one side of