Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in less than two seconds.
Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but not a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much feminine dignity.
After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast a few sheep's-eyes at her in church.
Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden her to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion.
She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, she had snubbed him so.
“Dear me!” said Mrs. Bassett, “why did you do that? Can you not be polite and nothing more?”
“No, mamma.”
“Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so.”
“He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am afraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor little fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks me a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I am very unkind to him, but I can't help it.”
“Never mind,” said Mrs. Bassett; “that is much better than to be too forward. Papa would never forgive that.”