The youth paused a moment, and the blood gathered slowly to his temples as he continued:
“If it be of a nature that I could execute-”
“It is such as can only be confided to one we know—one of ourselves.”
“Surely, you know me, Miss Temple!” he added, with a warmth that he seldom exhibited, but which did some times escape him in the moments of their frank communications. “Have I lived five months under your roof to be a stranger?”
Elizabeth was engaged with her needle also, and she bent her head to one side, affecting to arrange her muslin; but her hand shook, her color heightened, and her eyes lost their moisture in an expression of ungovernable interest, as she said:
“How much do we know of you, Mr. Edwards?”
“How much!” echoed the youth, gazing from the speaker to the mild countenance of Louisa, that was also illuminated with curiosity; “how much Have I been so long an inmate with you and not known?”
The head of Elizabeth turned slowly from its affected position, and the look of confusion that had blended so strongly with an expression of interest changed to a smile.
“We know you, sir, indeed; you are called Mr. Oliver Edwards. I understand that you have informed my friend Miss Grant that you are a native—”
“Elizabeth!” exclaimed Louisa, blushing to the eyes, and trembling like an aspen; “you misunderstood me, dear Miss Temple; I—I—it was only a conjecture. Besides, if Mr. Edwards is related to the natives why should we reproach him? In what are we better? at least I, who am the child of a poor and unsettled clergyman?”