A gleam came into Hester's eyes, which always looked nearly as black as night, and there was an angry curl on her red lip for a moment.
Bewildered—besotted, in fact—though Roland had become, by the wiles, graces, and beauty of the brilliant Annot, it was impossible for him not to feel, we say, some compunction, and keenly too, for his treatment of the soft and gentle Hester. He could not and dared not in any fashion approach so delicate a subject with her—explanation or exculpation was not to be thought of; yet he felt reproach subtly in her manner; he could read it in her eyes, strive to conceal her emotions as she might; and confusion made him blunder again.
'Hester, we part but for a few days,' said he in a low voice, and with more empressement of manner than he had adopted for some time past; 'we have ever been excellent friends, have we not, my dear girl? and now we shall be more so than ever.'
Hester remained silent. 'Why now, more than ever?' thought she, while his half-apologetic tone irritated and cut her to the heart, and she knew that a much more tender leave-taking with Annot was over and had taken place unseen; and now, indulging in dreamy thoughts of her own, that young lady was idling over the keys of the piano.
'Will you miss me when I am gone?' he asked, with a little nervous smile.
'No doubt you will be missed—by papa especially.'
'Well, I hope so.'
'Why?'
'It is nice to feel one's self important to others,' said he. with another awkward attempt at a jest; adding, 'May I?' as he lighted a cigar.
She grew paler still; for a moment he looked sorrowfully into her white-lidded and velvety dark blue eyes, and attempted to touch her hand, but she shrank back.