"Well, I sometimes think—but indeed it is a silly thought—that her distress is in some way connected with the marriage of Mr. Lytton and Miss Cavendish, for I notice that every time the name of either of them is mentioned she grows so much worse that I and my sister have ceased ever to speak of them."
"It can not be that she was ever in love with Mr. Lytton," suggested the minister's lady.
"I should think not. I should think she was not that weak-minded sort of woman to give way to such sentiment, much less to be made so extremely wretched by it. For I do tell you, my dear, her state is simply that of the utmost mental wretchedness."
"I will ask my husband to go to her. He is her pastor, and may be able to do her some good," said the minister's wife.
"Do, my dear, and come to see her yourself," said Miss Romania, as she and her sister arose to take leave.
Now you know all this distress was just "put on" by Mrs. Grey, to give coloring and plausibility to her future proceedings.
To be sure she kept her room, but it was not to grieve in secret: it was to excite the compassion and wonder of her sympathizing friends, while she laid her plans, drank French cordials, and feasted privately on the delicacies of the season, which she would secretly bring in, or dozed on her sofa and dreamed of her coming sweet revenge.
Certainly, instead of going to bed at a decent hour, she would walk the floor of her chamber half the night. But this was not done because she was suffering, or sleepless from grief, but for the purpose of keeping poor Miss Crane awake all night in the room below and making the poor lady believe that she, Mary Grey, was breaking her own heart in these vigils.
And for her want of nightly rest Mary Grey compensated herself by dozing half the day on her sofa; and for her want of regular meals she made up by slipping out occasionally and feasting at some "ladies' restaurant."
But her object was effected. She impressed everybody who came near her with the belief that she had suffered some awful wrong or bereavement of which she could not speak, but which threatened to unseat her reason or end her life.