He had taken pains to be present at Ida's
departure with her father, and it had depressed him unaccountably
that she had been so quiet as to seem even a little cold in her
farewell. She would not look towards him, nor could he catch her
eye or obtain one friendly expression. He did not know that the
poor girl dared not smile or speak lest she should be too friendly,
and that she avoided him with the instinct of self-preservation.
His conclusion was: "She finds, after thinking it all over, that
she has far more to forgive than she thought, and my presence
reminds her of everything she would be glad to forget."
He tried once or twice to find Jennie Burton, but did not succeed.
She made no apparent effort to avoid him, and was so cordial in
her manner when they met that he had severe compunctions that he
did not seek her society resolutely and press his suit. "The summer
is drawing to a close," he muttered, "and nothing is settled. Confound
it all! I'm the least settled of anything. The best chance I shall
ever have is passing swiftly. Ever faculty I possess assures me
that she is the one woman of all the world. I honor her, I reverence
her, I admire her and everything she does and says.
Pages:
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574