And Maria lifting a calm face answered—"The name of the song is Love."
CHAPTER V.
LOVE'S SWEET DREAM.
It is not truth, but falsehood which requires explanation, and Maria was sensible of this fact as she sat at her tambour frame thinking of Agnes and of Harry and of her uncle Neil. There was something not straightforward in the life of Agnes, and she resolved every day to make inquiry into it, and every day she made, instead, some deferring excuse. But one morning, while eating breakfast, they were all sensitive to unusual movements in the city, and the air was tense with human emotion. The Elder and Neil became restless and anticipative, and Maria could not escape the feverish mental contagion. When the men had left the house she hurried through her few duties, and then went to her friend. Agnes was standing at the garden gate, watching and listening. "There is news of some kind, Maria," she said; "I am anxious to know what it is."
"Grandmother says we need not run after news, it will find us out, and I dare say it is only more Connecticut ravaging."
Then Agnes turned into the house with Maria, for she perceived something unusual in her voice and manner—dissatisfaction, and perhaps a tone of injury. There was no pretence of study about her, she had not even brought her books, and Agnes became silent, and lifted her sewing. At length Maria spoke:
"What is the matter with you, Agnes?" she asked, and then added: "you are not like yourself this morning."
"Whatever the matter is, Maria, I caught it from you."
"You are cross."