"She fears that I may again speak as I ought not," I thought; and therefore I bowed quietly and passed on. Mr. Hearn was reading the paper on the piazza. I took a chair and went out under the elm, not far away. In a few moments Miss Warren joined her affianced, and sat down with some light work.
"Emily," I heard the banker say, as if the topic were uppermost in his mind, "I'd like to call your attention to this paragraph. I think our friend has written it with unusual good taste and grace, and I've taken pains to tell him so."
I could not help hearing his words; but I would not look up to see her humiliation, and turned a leaf, as if intent on my author.
After a moment she said, with slight but clear emphasis:
"I can't agree with you."
A little later she went to the piano; but I never heard her play so badly. A glance at Mr. Hearn revealed that his dignity and complacency had received a wound that he was inclined to resent. I strolled away muttering:
"She has idealized him as she did Old Plod, but after all it's not a very serious foible in a man of millions."
Before the day passed she found an opportunity to ask:
"Why did you not tell me that Mr. Hearn had spoken to you approvingly of that paragraph?"
"I would not willingly say anything to annoy you," I replied quietly.