The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

I did not care to hear more. Indeed I had not heard so much, only the yew walk was my way to the house, and I had been waiting hoping they would pass on. I now rose up, and passing through the archway I went on my way, giving a kind good-morning to Rosamond and curtsying to Andrew in passing. He would have spoken, I believe, but I did not give him the chance. When I entered the still-room I heard my aunt say, in a tone of some annoyance—

"Well, well, sister, we will let the matter rest. It is natural you should justify your own daughter as far as you can. I have told the young ones to say no more, and to treat their cousin kindly. So here she comes. Well, you have got a little color, child, in the fresh air. Yes, that is very nice. You are one who can mind what you are about, and will make a good housewife for all that is come and gone. There is a piece of gingerbread for you, and you had better take a cup of cream for your breakfast; you look but poorly. I think, sister, I will give Vevette the small still, and then she will not forget what she has learned."

[CHAPTER XIV.]

A WEDDING.

I THINK Margaret really did try to meet me as usual, but of course she did not succeed. She had been vexed at Rosamond for having so much the best of it in their little argument, and I fancy too she found her usual self-complacency a little disturbed; so she was very stately. Andrew did not say much, but he was kind, and would have liked to help me to everything on the table.

Betty was demure and silent, with eyes cast down, though I fancied I now and then caught her regarding me with some anxiety. I suppose she would have liked to find out how much I did know, or whether I knew anything. In good sooth I did not know anything, but I must needs own that my suspicions were strong, and grew stronger the more I considered the matter.

In the beginning of our acquaintance Betty had been much disposed to make a confidante of me, and she herself had told me that Mr. Lovel had been a suitor for her hand, but that her mother had rejected him because he was a spendthrift, and had no good character in other respects, besides being a total unbeliever—a fashion just then much affected by a certain class of men who wished to appear strong-minded and learned at small cost. I could see that Betty was well enough disposed toward him—indeed she said so.

And our first breach came from my saying I wondered she could think of such a person for a husband. I expressed myself pretty warmly on the subject, at which she was very much vexed, and said some sharp things in her turn. However, we made up the quarrel, but when Betty began to talk of him again—I, with a degree of prudence rather to be wondered at, positively refused to hear, telling her that since her mother and brother were opposed to the match, and with such good reason, she ought not to allow her thoughts to dwell upon the subject, but to conquer her regard for Mr. Lovel, if she had any. This little lecture completed the breach between us, and from that time Betty never lost a chance of vexing and injuring me, though she managed her matters with such adroitness that even Andrew did not see through them, and I began to wonder in myself whether I was not growing touchy and ill-natured.