She returned his bow politely,
but distantly. Poor Stanton scarcely dared to look towards her. At
supper, on the previous evening, he had taken no pains to conceal
his contempt and displeasure; now he was unable to hid his
embarrassment and fear. As in the parlor on the previous evening
so now again, there was an element in Ida Mayhew's appearance or
in herself that caused deep disquietude.
"I'm very glad, Ida, you've changed your mind and come down," began
Mrs. Mayhew, volubly.
"I have not changed my mind," she replied, with such sad, stern
emphasis that they all involuntarily looked at her for a moment.
Poor Mrs. Mayhew was so quenched and depressed that she did not
venture to speak again.
Only Miss Burton was able to maintain her self-possession and tact,
and she was intently but unobtrusively studying Miss Mayhew. Her
college-life had made her acquainted with so many strange feminine
problems that she had the nerve and experience of a veteran, but she
could not penetrate the dark mystery in which Ida had now shrouded
herself. Resolving, however, that she would not succumb to the
chill and restraint that paralyzed the others, she persisted in
conversing with her in simple, natural tones.
Pages:
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428