circumstances
attendant upon it; but no word in reference to me; no intimation that my
name had ever passed her lips, or even been spoken in her presence. To
be sure, I asked no questions on the subject; I could not bring my mind
to do so, believing, as I did, that Lawrence was indeed averse to the
idea of my union with his sister.

I saw that he expected to be further questioned concerning his visit, and
I saw too, with the keen perception of awakened jealousy, or alarmed
self-esteem, or by whatever name I ought to call it, that he rather
shrank from that impending scrutiny, and was no less pleased than
surprised to find it did not come. Of course, I was burning with anger,
but pride obliged me to suppress my feelings, and preserve a smooth face,
or at least a stoic calmness, throughout the interview. It was well it
did, for, reviewing the matter in my sober judgment, I must say it would
have been highly absurd and improper to have quarrelled with him on such
an occasion. I must confess, too, that I wronged him in my heart: the
truth was, he liked me very well, but he was fully aware that a union
between Mrs. Huntingdon and me would be what the world calls a
mesalliance; and it was not in his nature to set the world at defiance;
especially in such a case as this, for its dread laugh, or ill opinion,
would be far more terrible to him directed against his sister than
himself. Had he believed that a union was necessary to the happiness of
both, or of either, or had he known how fervently I loved her, he would
have acted differently; but seeing me so calm and cool, he would not for
the world disturb my philosophy; and though refraining entirely from any
active opposition to the match, he would yet do nothing to bring it
about, and would much rather take the part of prudence, in aiding us to
overcome our mutual predilections, than that of feeling, to encourage
them. 'And he was in the right of it,' you will say. Perhaps he was; at
any rate, I had no business to feel so bitterly against him as I did; but
I could not then regard the matter in such a moderate light; and, after a
brief conversation upon indifferent topics, I went away, suffering all
the pangs of wounded pride and injured friendship, in addition to those
resulting from the fear that I was indeed forgotten, and the knowledge
that she I loved was alone and afflicted, suffering from injured health
and dejected spirits, and I was forbidden to console or assist