Mrs. Gaunt came down from her room discomposed: from that she became restless and irritable; so much so, indeed, that, at last, Sir. Gaunt told her, good-humouredly enough, if going to church made her ill (meaning peevish), she had better go to chapel. "You are right," said she, "and so I will."
The next Sunday she was at her post in good time.
The preacher cast an anxious glance around to see if she was there. Her quick eye saw that glance, and it gave her a demure pleasure.
This day he was more eloquent than ever: and he delivered a beautiful passage concerning those who do good in secret. In uttering these eloquent sentences, his cheek glowed, and he could not deny himself the pleasure of looking down at the lovely face that was turned up to him. Probably his look was more expressive than he intended: the celestial eyes sank under it, and were abashed, and the fair cheek burned: and then so did Leonard's at that.
Thus, subtly yet effectually, did these two minds communicate in a crowd, that never noticed nor suspected the delicate interchange of sentiment that was going on under their very eyes.
In a general way compliments did not seduce Mrs. Gaunt: she was well used to them, for one thing. Put to be praised in that sacred edifice, 'and from the pulpit, and by such an orator as Leonard, and to be praised in words so sacred and beautiful, that the ears around her drank them with delight, all this made her heart beat, and filled her with soft and sweet complacency.
And then to be thanked in public, yet, as it were, clandestinely, this gratified the furtive tendency of women.
There was no irritability this afternoon; but a gentle radiance that diffused itself on all around, and made the whole household happy; especially Griffith, whose pipe she filled, for once, with her own white hand, and talked dogs, horses, calves, hinds, cows, politics, markets, hay, to please him: and seemed interested in them all.
But the next day she changed: ill at ease, and out of spirits, and could settle to nothing.
It was very hot for one thing: and, altogether, a sort of lassitude and distaste for everything overpowered her, and she retired into the grove, and sat languidly on a seat with half-closed eyes.