“What is that, Gaut?”
“It is of no consequence that you should know it. If I should name it, you would not see its bearing on my plans, I presume.”
“Perhaps not, for I don’t know what your plans are, these days. I used to be able to guess out the objects you had in view, before you came here, whether you told me or not. But, since you have been in this settlement, I have been at loss to know what you are driving at; I can’t understand your movements at all.”
“What movements do you mean, woman?”
“All of them; but particularly those that have to do with the Elwoods.”
“What is there in my course toward them, since they came here, that you can’t understand?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Gaut. When you believed Elwood to be rich, I could easily see that you thought it would be an object to bring about an acquaintance between his son and only heir, and our Avis; and I knew you was, those days, studying how it could be done, and I always suspected that you in some way disposed of that picture of her for the purpose, instead of sending it to your relations, and——”
“And what?” exclaimed Gaut, turning fiercely on his wife. “Suspected! What business had you to suspect? And you told Avis what you thought, I suppose?”
“Not a word, never one word; for I knew she was so proud and particular, that, if she mistrusted any thing of that kind to have been done, she would flounce in a minute. No. I never hinted it to her, or anybody else, and it was guess-work, after all,” replied the abashed wife, in a deprecating tone,—she having been tempted, by the unusual mood which her stern husband had manifested for discussing his private affairs with her, to venture to speak much more freely than was her wont.
“Well, see that you don’t hint any thing about that, nor any thing else you may take it into your silly head to guess about my objects,” rejoined the other, in a somewhat mollified tone. “But now go on with what you were going to say.”