She added a few more playful words, then I was resolute to go. I left her standing there in one of her graceful attitudes, playing negligently with her roses.
Once in the hall, I glanced back; the widow had changed her position,—she was stationed by a window,—I saw Mr. Lee approach her, and they began an earnest conversation. I turned and went up-stairs, growing sadder and more sick at heart.
Mrs. Lee slept quietly nearly the whole time, so that I had ample opportunity for my sorrowful reflections,—more than I desired, since dwelling upon the things which troubled me only increased my restlessness, without bringing me any nearer a conclusion that could have been of the least value.
After Mrs. Lee had gone to bed, I went into my own room, and saw no one again that night. When it was too late, I remembered that I had not spoken to Mr. Lee, but consoled myself with fancying that Jessie would tell him, or that I should have an opportunity in the morning.
I was disappointed both ways. When I went down to breakfast, I found that Mr. Lee had been obliged to ride over to the iron works. He had gone before any one was stirring, and would not return until late in the afternoon.
While one of the servants was giving me that information, Mrs. Dennison passed through the hall. She hurried on with a smile, but I noticed that the skirt of her dress was wet and soiled; I felt certain that she knew of Mr. Lee's intention, and had gone out to meet him, and hold one of her private conversations.
Before she appeared again, Jessie joined me in the breakfast-room.
"How late we all are!" she said; "it is too bad."
"I quite overslept myself," I replied; then I remembered my thought of the last night. "Oh, my dear! did you ask your father to go with us to Mrs. Bosworth's?"
"I had no opportunity," she answered, blushing crimson. "I am afraid, too, that I half forgot it."