She was a little piqued at his neglect in answering her last letter, and wishing to show proper resentment, she drew back rather haughtily, as if wondering how he dare “take such liberties.” This he readily perceived, and instantly assuming an air quite as indifferent as her own, he turned towards me, hardly noticing her again, though it was easy to see that the reserve of both was merely affectation. That evening he was gone until nine o’clock, and when he entered the parlor, I noticed on the face of my aunt the same anxious expression which I remembered having seen there, when from our sitting-room window, she watched his return. But he was perfectly sober, and with a sigh of relief, she resumed her work; while he, coming round to my side, startled me by saying that “he had just met with a friend of mine—Dr. Clayton.”
“Where did you see him?” asked Anna, while I bent lower over the book I was reading; for that name had still a power to move me strongly.
“Why,” answered Herbert, “Tom Wilson, an old schoolmate of mine, boards at the Tremont, where he is now lying very sick. All the old physicians have given him up, and so he has employed this Dr. Clayton, who, it seems, has been at the same hotel for six weeks or more. I called on Tom this evening, and while I was there Dr. Clayton came in. In the course of our conversation he spoke of Meadow Brook, and then, as a matter of course, I said there were now in our family two young ladies from that place. When I mentioned Rosa’s name, he turned almost as white as Tom himself, and if she were not so young, I should be inclined to think there was something between them. What do you say, coz?”
Here Anna came to my aid, saying, “Why, he’s a married man, and his wife is with him at the Tremont.”
“The dickens he is!” said Herbert, looking a little puzzled. Then turning to his mother, he added, “Mother, you ought to call on this Mrs. Clayton, for if she is an acquaintance of Anna and Rosa, they will very naturally wish to see her occasionally.”
“She needn’t call for me,” said I, quickly.
“Nor for me, for I don’t know her,” rejoined Anna, while with a haughty toss of her head, Aunt Charlotte replied, that “her circle of acquaintances was quite large enough now, and she’d no idea of extending it by taking in people about whom she knew nothing.”
I know it was very wrong in me, but I could not help straightening up a little in my chair as I wondered what the proud Dell Thompson would say if she knew that the despised Rosa Lee was living as an equal in a family which looked down upon her and her husband as nobodies. I was roused from my reverie by my aunt’s asking Herbert in a low tone, “how Ada was to-night,” and glancing towards him, I fancied that said Ada, whoever she might be, was to him not a very pleasant subject just then, for his brow darkened visibly, while he replied, “I never once thought to inquire, but I dare say she’s no worse, or she would have sent for you post haste.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then my aunt again spoke, “Herbert, I wish you’d do better. You know how lonely she is, and how much she must necessarily feel your neglect.”
“Fudge!” was his answer, as he folded his hands over his head, and leaning back in his chair, looked straight into the astral lamp.