6^1 h 
54 STORY OF AI^NMyM^ TURIN. 
attention from everybody. She had taken 
the most genuine interest in everything that 
was done and said. Her life seemed to 
date indeed from these great occasions. 
And now must she go over all this, and 
probably be bridesmaid again to Francis’s 
wife? Her very heart grew sick at the 
thought ; but she must do it, must keep up, 
and give no one any reason to think — no 
one — that her heart was broken. 
She was still standing thus, when the door 
opened, and Francis himself came into the 
room. Anne’s heart gave a wild bound, 
and then seemed to stand still ; but perhaps 
it was best that it should happen so, for she 
must have met him soon, and the room was 
dark, and he could not see how she looked. 
He came up to her where she stood, and 
took her hand, as he had a way of doing. 
‘‘ Well, Anne,” he said. 
“ Well, Francis,” she returned faintly, as 
by some mechanical action, and withdrew 
her hand. She looked down into the fire, 
which threw a ruddy reflection on her face 
and disguised her paleness. She did not 
feel able to look at him. 
What’s the matter ? ” said Francis, 
jauntily ; “ not displeased, are you ? Of 
course my mother has told you,” and he 
took her hand again. She dared not with- 
draw it that time, but had to leave it in his 
hold, though the poor little fingers tingled 
to their tips with the misery and bitterness 
and shame in her heart. All that he meant, 
of course, was friendliness, cousinship — 
while she — she, a woman, had allowed other 
thoughts to get entrance into her mind ! 
“ I am not displeased,” she said, sum- 
moning all her courage, “ except that you 
did not give us any warning, Francis. You 
might have told me something about her ; 
I was rather hurt at that.” 
“ Were you, dear ? ” he said, with a ten- 
derness that was unusual, and he put his 
other arm round her waist, as if somehow 
this new change had increased instead of 
diminishing his privileges. And Anne, poor 
Anne, dared not resent it — dared not break 
from him, as probably, laughing and blush- 
ing, she would have done yesterday. She 
had to stand still, making herself as stiff and 
cold as she could, enduring the half em- 
brace. “ If I had thought that, you should 
have known everything from the beginning ; 
but it has not been a very long business ; 
and, until I knew her sentiments, I saw no 
need to betray mine. It might have come 
to nothing, and a man does not care to 
make a fool of himself.” 
“ Then tell me about her now,” said 
Anne, holding firmly by the mantel-piece, 
and desperately plunging to the center of 
the misery at once. 
Francis laughed. 
“ I don’t know what I can say. I left 
her photograph somewhere, and I suppose 
my mother told you.” 
“ Only that it was an excellent marriage, 
nothing about her I 
Once more Francis laughed. He shrugged 
his shoulders, and bent down to look into 
her face. 
“ I suppose Letty and Susan raved of 
him to your sympathetic ears, did they? 
But men don’t go in for that sort of thing. 
No ; I want you to tell me, Anne, my dear 
little girl — look up, that I may see your face 
— are you pleased ? ” 
Francis ! of course I am pleased if you 
are happy,” faltered poor Anne ; “ but how 
can I tell otherwise, when I don’t know 
her, and you won’t tell me anything about 
her ? ” 
“ Give me a kiss then and wish me joy,’^ 
he said. 
Anne felt his cheek touch hers. There 
seemed to ensue a moment in which every- 
thing whirled round her — the fire-light, the 
pale evening sky through the window, the 
glimmer in the glass. Whether she should 
faint in his arms, or break away from them, 
seemed to hang upon a hair. But that hair- 
breadth of strength still remained to her. 
She escaped from his hold. She flew out 
of the room and upstairs like a hunted 
creature and dropped down upon her knees 
in her own little chamber, hiding her face 
on her bed. Had he suspected? Could 
he know ? But in the passion that swept 
over her, Anne was beyond entering very 
closely into these questions. She dared not 
cry aloud or even sob, though nature seemed 
to rend her bosom ; but the darkness fell on 
her mercifully, hiding her even from herself. 
Mr. Francis Hartley remained behind and 
contemplated himself in the glass as Anne 
had done. He caressed his whiskers and 
drew his fingers through his hair, and said 
“ Poor little Anne ! ” to himself with the 
ghost of a smile about the corners of his 
mouth. Yes, Anne was piqued, there was 
no doubt of it. Her little heart had been 
touched. Poor, dear little thing! it was 
not his fault ; he had never given her any 
encouragement, and it was hard if a man 
could not be kind to his little cousin with- 
out raising hopes of that sort in her mind. 
But he liked Anne none the worse for her 
01 23456789 10 Missouri 
... . Botanical 
cm copyright reserved garden 
