CHAPTER IV.
THE TABLEAUX PARTY.
This conversation did not have the effect of re-establishing the intercourse between the cousins on its old familiar footing. When they were together, both the girls felt that they must be very careful what they said, lest they should injure each other’s feelings; and this necessity of constant watchfulness over one’s words in presence of another is any thing but pleasant. Nothing can be more surely fatal to a friendship than such a state of mind. It was not strange, therefore, that the cousins, though outwardly as fond of each other as ever, rather shunned than sought each other’s society.
Susan felt this estrangement far more keenly than her cousin. She was not one who made many friends; while Carrie was of a social nature, and was a general favourite. Susie was proud, too, and her cousin had taunted her with being jealous. This had stung her to the quick. It prevented her from saying any thing more against the intimacy existing between the room-mates; and her pride, too, forbade her to accept any invitations to join them in their walks.
“Florence doesn’t want me,” was her invariable reply.
“But I do,” Carrie would say.
“I don’t care about being a third one,” was Susan’s answer,—a reply which annoyed her cousin exceedingly.
“Let her alone: she’s a jealous thing. She must be every thing or nothing,” was Florence’s consolation to her friend when she came to her with these troubles; and at last the advice was taken. Carrie ceased to ask Susan altogether.
Poor Susie spent many unhappy hours alone in her chamber, and shed many bitter tears over this neglect, quite unconscious that she herself was partly in fault. And (not a little conscience-smitten at her treatment of the poor orphan) Carrie, instead of changing her course, tried to keep out of sight of her sad face as much as possible. This threw her still more into Florence’s society,—so that they were soon quite inseparable.
One day, while walking to the village accompanied by Miss Winthrop,—for it was against the rules to go out of the school-grounds unless under the charge of a teacher,—they met a handsome carriage, which suddenly stopped close by them, and a young lady, who was riding alone, called out,—