She was restless, and did not know what to do. Things which had previously given pleasure to her she now wondered she could have ever enjoyed. Nothing pleased her; nothing delighted her; what could have come over her?
Her brother perceived the change, and wondered too what was the matter. He thought Lizzie was hipped at being left alone so much, for he had to be out a good deal, and the household was only composed of himself and her, with the exception of the servants. Acting on this idea he had proposed to Lizzie that they should invite a certain Aunt Jane to visit them; but Lizzie made up a horrible little moue, expressive of disgust, and laughed the idea to scorn.
She drew such a picture of the peculiarities of the stern Aunt Jane, and showed what straits they would be reduced to under her régime, that Pringle quickly abandoned the project in holy horror, and wondered how he could have ever thought of such a thing. Then when he commented on Lizzie’s looks, and asked her affectionately what was the matter, she laughed it off at first, told him she was never better in her life, asked him what could induce him to question her so, and concluded by making a pretty scene, and sobbing on his neck. She was miserable! She did not know what was the matter with her! She must be ill! She would be all right probably to-morrow; she had a headache now, and was tired; she would go to bed!—which she accordingly did.
This was after the first acquaintance with Master Tom.
But when that young gentleman began to take such a deep interest in fly-fishing, and, in pursuing his favourite spoilt, had to pay so many and frequent visits to the parsonage in order to fish in the pool that ran at the bottom of the lawn, Lizzie got brighter and better.
Instead of her movements being all languor and lack of elasticity, they were now all life and vivacity. She took a deeper interest in everything around her; every little humdrum detail in her daily routine seemed to be invested with a new charm: there was not a brighter little lassie around the country side. She was merry then, and when Tom’s avowal came, and she heard from his own lips those burning words of love, of which she had been intuitively cognisant, and which she had, unknown to herself, already returned, her cup of happiness brimmed over.
The change was complete.
Then came the after relapse, when Tom came down so miserably to tell of his mother’s refusal, and had afterwards parted from her in anger.
In anger with her! She thought her little heart would break.
The falling out of lovers, however, is the renewal of love; and so Lizzie found it.