How was this?
For weeks Marcel de Crespigney had rendered his youthful ward very uneasy by his manner toward her. On that morning he had frightened her from her self-possession, and she had rushed from him in terror. Later and cooler reflection had convinced her that she had really no actual cause for offence or fear. And when he had made his humble apology, her heart had been so touched that she had more than forgiven him, she had spoken tenderly to him, and she had taken all the blame upon herself. Then, with strange misgivings of wrong and woe, she had regretted her graciousness, and when he beamed on her with a look of love and joy, she had shrunk up into reserve and cautiousness.
She became possessed of that
“Surly fear and cold disgust,
Wonderful and most unjust,”
which she could neither comprehend nor conquer; for which she often blamed herself, but which now held her tongue-tied and downcast in the presence of her guardian.
He, on his own part, quick to perceive her state, felt that he had again lost her confidence and filled her with fear; and he also grew reticent in looks and speech, and consequently depressed and mournful.
She gave him a cup of coffee, without a word.
He took it with a silent bow.
Both were relieved when, at the end of the ceremony, they were free to leave the dining-room.