“Thou livest! thou livest!
I knew thou couldst not die!”
De Chatillon—Mrs. Hemans.
Nearly two years had elapsed since the death of Reginald De Vere ere any event of sufficient importance occurred in Annie’s life for us to resume the thread of our narrative. A shock like that, and on such a disposition, could never be forgotten, though time, the softener of all ills, had restored her to some degree of her wonted animation, and though the elastic spirits of the young girl had given way, the woman had become yet more attractive and lovable. The first London season after Reginald’s death she had not accompanied her uncle’s family to the great metropolis, but spent the period of their absence quietly in Scotland. The second, she did not refuse to join them; but scenes of festivity were so evidently distasteful, that her friends did not urge her entering more into society than her own inclinations prompted. But in her uncle’s house she was seen and known only to be admired and loved, receiving, to her extreme astonishment, an unexceptionable offer of marriage before she had been two months in London. It was declined gratefully, but so decidedly as to give no hope. Some weeks afterwards, Lord St. Clair one morning entered Annie’s room. She was alone, so intently engaged in drawing as not to observe the very peculiar expression of countenance with which he regarded her some minutes without speaking.
“I would give something to read your thoughts, cousin mine,” she said, playfully, at length raising her eyes to his face, which instantly resumed its usual kind and open expression. “I could hardly believe you were in the room, you were so silent.”
“I was thinking how very wise the world is, Annie. It knows and vouches for so many things concerning individuals, of which they are utterly ignorant themselves.”
“Why, what is the report now?”
“Only—” he paused for a second, then rallied so quickly, that the huskiness of his first words was unperceived, “that you and I are engaged in marriage, and that I only wait till you are of age, that the disparity of years may seem less.”
“The world must think much too highly of me for such a report to gain credence,” replied Annie, simply, yet gravely, though she did start at the intelligence.
“What can you mean?”