An awkward silence had lasted for some minutes, when Alan Faulkner said in a low, deep voice, that seemed to vibrate with some subtle emotion:
"I wonder, Miss Nan, if I dare take the privilege of a friend, and venture to give you a warning."
"Of course, I shall be happy for you to speak to me as a friend," I said, as he waited for me to reply; "but you are mistaken in supposing that I need a warning."
"Ah, you do not know," he said quickly; "you are young, Miss Nan, and may be easily deceived by a specious manner and good appearance. I hate to speak against people. It seems mean to rake up the errors of a man's past. If I thought he had reformed, I would not say a word; but as it is, I think you ought to know that while I was at the University Ralph Marshman made himself notorious by a course of conduct which resulted in his being sent down. I—I hardly know how to tell you, but it was something more than a mad escapade, the outcome of youthful riot; he acted in a way that showed him to be utterly unprincipled and dishonourable to a degree. Forgive me if I give you pain."
Of course, he said it with the kindest intention; but his thus taking it for granted that I was so deeply interested in Ralph Marshman made me unreasonably angry. His words certainly caused my heart to quiver with pain; but in a way that he could not understand. At the same time they kindled within me such a fire of passionate indignation as led me to exclaim, in a voice unlike my own: "Pain! How can you give me pain, Mr. Faulkner? I can assure you that is beyond your power; but it amazes me that you should thus misjudge another."
I paused, for my voice had grown husky. I found myself on the point of bursting into tears. Alan Faulkner had turned on the window seat, and was looking at me with eyes full of pain, and with something of reproach in them too, it seemed to me. The next moment there was the sound of wheels on the gravel outside, and the wagonette drove up to the door containing Aunt Patty, Mr. Dicks, and innumerable parcels.
Instantly I sprang up, welcoming the diversion. Choking down my emotion, I ran out. As I busied myself in helping aunt out and collecting the parcels, I assumed an animation at which I secretly marvelled. Was I too becoming an adept at dissimulation? As I chattered away to Mr. Dicks, or questioned aunt as to what she had done, my heart was like lead, yet it seemed to me that I played my part well. I did not deceive Aunt Patty, however. She looked at me more than once with an intentness that made me uncomfortable, and at last she said:
"What is the matter with you, Nan? You don't seem yourself somehow. Have you been ministering to Agneta, till you have got a headache from force of sympathy?"
"Not exactly," I replied, thankful that Mr. Faulkner had taken himself off ere aunt made this remark: "but the weather is trying, don't you think? It seems so hot and oppressive this afternoon."
"I have not found it so," said Aunt Patty; "there was a nice breeze driving."