"What is the matter--are you sick, Julia!"
"No! nothing. But the letter--where is it?"
"I threw it on my table, or in my desk, with other papers, to have
them out of the way; and hurrying home sooner than usual, forgot to
bring it with me. I suppose there's nothing in it of any importance?"
"No, nothing, I suppose," she answered faintly.
I told her what I had done with respect to our guests.
"I am very sorry," she answered, "that you have done so. I do not
feel like company, and wished to have you all to myself."
"Oh, selfish; but of this I will believe moderately! As for company,
with the exception of Wharton, they are old friends; and it would
not do to take a pleasure ramble, with poor Edgerton here, and
not make him a party."
There was an earnest intensity of gaze, almost amounting to a painful
stare, in Julia's eyes, as I said these words. She really seemed
distressed.
"But really, Edward, our pleasure ramble is not such a one as would
make it a duty to invite your friends. How difficult it seems for
you to understand me. Could not we two stroll a piece into the
woods without having witnesses?"
"Why, is that all? Why then should you have made a formal appointment
for such a purpose? Could we not have gone as before--without
premeditation?"
The question puzzled her. She looked anxious. Had she answered with
sincerity--with truth--and could I have believed her to have been
sincere, how easy would it have been to have settled our difficulties.
Had she said--"I really wish to avoid Mr. Edgerton, whose presence
annoys me--who will be sure to come--when you are sure to be
gone--and whom I have particular reasons to wish not to meet--not
to see."
This, which might be the truth, she did not dare to speak. She
had her reasons for her apprehension. This, which was reasonable
enough, I could not conjecture; for the demon of the blind heart
was too busy in suggesting other conjectures. It was evident
enough that she had secret motives for her course, which she did
not venture to reveal to me; and nothing could be more natural, in
the diseased state of my mind, than that I should give the worst
colorings to these motives in the conjectures which I made upon
them. We were destined to play at cross-purposes much longer, and
with more serious issues.
Our friends came, and we set forth in the pleasant part of
the afternoon. We ascended our hill, and resting awhile upon the
summit, surveyed the prospect from that position. Then I conducted
the party through some of our woodland walks, which Julia and myself
had explored together. But I soon gave up the part of cicerone
to Wharton, who was to the "MANOR BORN." He was a native of the
neighborhood, boasted that he knew every "bosky dell of this wild
wood" and certainly conducted us to glimpses of prettiest heights,
and groves, and far vistas, where the light seemed to glide before
us in an embodied gray form, that stole away, and peeped backward
upon us from long allies of the darkest and most solemn-sighted
pines.