Then it was likely to be Mr. Saltonstall, after all! Was he going to be narrow and mean enough to keep her out of what was best in a woman's life? But he looked down the dreary years without her. He could not attach himself to the world of business as Cousin Giles did. Some of these young fellows might come into a sort of sonship with him—there was Anthony Drayton.
Why was it his soul protested against them? He did not understand the deep underlying dissent that made a cruel discordance in his desire for her happiness.
Mr. Saltonstall walked home from church with her and Miss Winn. And he came in one evening to ask some advice. He had cudgelled his brain for days to find just the right subject. That ended, they had a talk about chess—that was becoming quite an interest in some circles. There were several moves that puzzled him.
"Come in some evening and talk them over," said Mr. Leverett.
Edward Saltonstall wondered at the favor of the gods and accepted. Not as if he was in any vulgar hurry, but he dropped in, politely social, and asked if he should disturb them. Chilian had been reading Southey's "Thalaba."
"Oh, no. We often read in the evening," said Cynthia.
She was netting a bead bag, an industry all the rage then among the women. They really were prettier than the samplers. But she rose and brought the box of chessmen, while he rolled the table from its corner.
"Will I disturb you if I stay?" she asked.
"Not unless it interferes with Mr. Saltonstall's attention," said Chilian, then bit his lip.
"Oh, I do not think it will;" smilingly.