n me with severity; that he had become
indulgent, because he had grown indifferent; and the pain
which this supposition gave me, involuntarily, though not
unconsciously, influenced my manner to him; and I answered
with irritation some trifling question which he addressed to
me. As usual, when this was the case, he suddenly broke off
the conversation; but, this time, instead of walking away, sat
down on the other side of Rosa; and while Mr. Manby was plying
me with the heaviest kind of small-talk, I heard her telling
Edward one piece of nonsense after another, which made him
laugh in a short, sudden, joyous manner, which had the effect
of making me snub Mr. Manby, in a way which even his
pertinacity was not proof against. He turned to Mr. Escourt,
who was standing near him, and whose very disagreeable eyes
had been fixed upon me for the last few minutes, and proposed
to him a game at billiards. They walked away; and Rosa,
turning suddenly round, and observing probably that I looked
vexed and discomposed, asked me if I should like to see my
room. I jumped up, and followed her to the house; she led the
way up-stairs, and established me in a charming room; where,
as soon as the door was closed upon her, I threw myself down
on the couch, with a feeling of utter wretchedness and
discouragement, differing from anything I had yet experienced.

The window was open; there were green trees close to it, the
waving of whose branches I could see from where I was. Large
nosegays of flowers were placed upon the table, and now and
then the air from the garden dispensed the delicious perfume
which it had stolen from a bed of mignonette. There was also
that drowsy hum of insects, the very song of summer, which we
love, not for its beauty (though there _is_ beauty in its
sleepy busy monotony), but for all it recalls; for all the
associations it brings to our minds. I was very tired; and I
remained some time on the sofa in a state of abstraction
bordering on sleep. I was roused from it in about half-an-hour
by some snatches of an old song, which sounded almost like the
chirpings of a bird, so sweet, and wild, and unconnected was
their melody. I jumped up from the couch, and went to the
window; it looked on a small garden, closed in by a slight
green railing. It was one mass of flowers, perfectly dazzling
in their profusion, variety, and beauty. In the centre was a
large cage made of trellis-work, within which creepers grew,
and marble