‘And you are the last person to believe in such affection,’ I remarked. I thought it would be a good occasion to find out if she had ever had an unfortunate attachment.
‘What makes you think so?’ she answered quickly.
‘Because you have never tried it—have you? You have never been in love yourself, Margaret?’
I spoke laughingly; but I wish I had not mentioned it. A scarlet flush mounted to her very forehead as I said the words; and when I pulled her by the hand and repeated my assertion, she burst into tears, and ran from me to the house. What a fool I was to touch on such a subject! I don’t believe, all the same, that it is true, that she has ever been in love; but I may have wounded her sensitive pride by mentioning it, and cause her to be reserved with me in future. Indeed, I am sure that she behaved more distantly towards me even during the remainder of the evening; and a little circumstance which happened just before we went to bed confirms me in this opinion.
Janie was quite brisk and lively compared to what she has been lately, and sung us several songs; but Lionne excused herself from singing, and remained in a corner with her face buried in a book.
‘Make her come, Robert dear,’ said Janie playfully. ‘Go and pull her out.’
‘Captain Norton knows better than to attempt such a rudeness,’ was the measured reply, which fell rather as a wet blanket on the other little woman’s mirth.
‘Why do you call him Captain Norton?’ she said, pouting. ‘You called him Robert this afternoon when you were in the verandah, Lionne, because I heard you. Why can’t you do so always?’
Miss Anstruther had disappeared still lower behind her book; but to my wife’s demand she made no reply.
‘Why won’t you call him Robert?’ said Janie, as she rose from the piano and took possession of her cousin’s book; ‘he always calls you Margaret.’