“What nonsense! Why, he has not seen her above three times.”
“Quite enough for a young man of his vehement character.”
“What can have put such an idea into your head?”
“His way of talking about her—the expression of his face when he pronounces her name—the questions he asked me about her, showing the keenest interest in even the silliest details. What kind of a girl was she before she married, and how long had she known Sir Godfrey before they were engaged, and had their love been a grand passion full of romance and poetry, or only a humdrum kind of affection encouraged by their mutual relations? Idiotic questions of that kind could only be asked by a man who was in love. And then how eagerly he snapped at your suggestion that he should go with you to the Priory next Sunday.”
“It may be as you think,” Theodore answered gravely. “I know his fervid temperament about most things; but I did not think he was the kind of man to fall in love—upon such very slight provocation.”
“She may have given more encouragement than you suppose,” said Sophy. “He is the kind of man that a frivolous, half-educated girl would think attractive. She would never find out the want of depth under that arrogant, self-assured manner. However, she has asked Janet and me for next Sunday, and I shall soon see how the land lies. You were always unobservant.”
Theodore did not try to vindicate his character as an observer, albeit he knew no look or tone of his cousin’s was likely to escape him; that even sharp-eyed malevolence could never watch her more closely than love would watch out of his eyes.
Yes; it was not unlikely that Cuthbert admired her too much for his own peace. He recalled words which had passed unnoticed when they were together. Poor Cuthbert! He felt he had done wrong in exposing his friend to such an ordeal. Who could know her and not love her?
CHAPTER XXVIII.
“For life must life, and blood must blood repay.”