But she did not receive them. Her coming to the table was greeted
with an ominous silence, for each one was conscious of thoughts
so greatly to her prejudice that they scarcely wished to meet her
eye. Mrs. Mayhew looked excessively worried and anxious. Stanton
was flushed and angry. The artist was icy as he only knew how to
be when he deemed there was sufficient occasion; and in his opinion,
the presence of the prospective and willing bride of the man who
had attempted his life, and, what was far worse, insulted the woman
he most honored, was occasion, indeed.
From time to time he gave her a cold, curious glance, as one might
look at some strange, abnormal thing for which there is no accounting;
but his slight scrutiny was no longer furtive. He looked at her
openly as he would at an OBJECT, and not at a woman whose feelings
he would not wound for the world. His thought was: "A creature
akin to Sibley deserves no consideration, and can put in no just
claim for delicacy."
Indeed he felt a peculiar vindictiveness towards her to-night, because
she had so thwarted him, and was about to carry her extraordinary
dower of beauty to the moral slough that seemingly awaited
her.
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