Лето
III
Aclumsybandandbuttonfastenedherunbleachednight-gownaboutthethroat.Sheundidit,freedherthinshoulders,andsawherselfabrideinlow-neckedsatin,walkingdownanaislewithLuciusHarney.Hewouldkissherastheyleftthechurch....Sheputdownthecandleandcoveredherfacewithherhandsasiftoimprisonthekiss.AtthatmomentsheheardMr.Royall’sstepashecameupthestairstobed,andafiercerevulsionoffeelingsweptoverher.Untilthenshehadmerelydespisedhim;nowdeephatredofhimfilledherheart.Hebecametoherahorribleoldman....
Thenextday,whenMr.Royallcamebacktodinner,theyfacedeachotherinsilenceasusual.Verena’spresenceatthetablewasanexcusefortheirnottalking,thoughherdeafnesswouldhavepermittedthefreestinterchangeofconfidences.Butwhenthemealwasover,andMr.Royallrosefromthetable,helookedbackatCharity,whohadstayedtohelptheoldwomanclearawaythedishes.
“Iwanttospeaktoyouaminute,”hesaid;andshefollowedhimacrossthepassage,wondering.
Heseatedhimselfinhisblackhorse-hairarmchair,andsheleanedagainstthewindow,indifferently.Shewasimpatienttobegonetothelibrary,tohuntforthebookonNorthDormer.
“Seehere,”hesaid,“whyain’tyouatthelibrarythedaysyou’resupposedtobethere?”
Thequestion,breakinginonhermoodofblissfulabstraction,deprivedherofspeech,andshestaredathimforamomentwithoutanswering.
“WhosaysIain’t?”
“There’sbeensomecomplaintsmade,itappears.
