Did the words, which had once proceeded from those same lips, thrill upon her recollection? or was it only the jealous disapproval of her lover Eugene which would start up to trouble her on such occasions?
Whilst Eustace—it would be vain to tell what caused the quick transition of that glance or smile into the cold and rigidly averted brow, or caused to die away upon his lips words whose inspiration sprang from a source which could not be worthily encouraged.
Thus, day after day went on, and brought but diminished opportunity of touching on those points of interest so near her heart, and concerning which she more and more became possessed with the vague and restless fancy, that Mr. Temple possessed more power than any one imagined of enlightenment; for she avoided, as much as possible, finding herself alone with him, and if at times, as inevitably it occurred, they were thrown together apart from the other two, Mary's haunting vision of Eugene's jealous disapproval of her intimacy with Mr. Temple would cast a restraint over her feelings, and made her shrink from availing herself of the favourable opportunity thus afforded.
Of course Mr. Wynne—and through him Eustace Trevor had soon learnt from Arthur every particular relating to his sister's situation with regard to Eugene, and the effect produced upon the latter by the circumstances which transpired, was evidenced only by the calm, rigid expression which settled on his interesting countenance—only subdued into soft and gentle melancholy, when at times, unobserved by herself, his eyes could fix themselves on Mary; and as for meeting her half-way, in any renewal of the subject, so particularly discussed near the fountain that first morning of their meeting, he, with almost equal pointedness, might have seemed to avoid any occasion which could tend to its revival.
On the other hand, from Mr. Wynne the more unconscious and unsuspecting Arthur could gain little satisfactorily information on the topic on which he had promised to make inquiries. He always fought off any cross questioning on any particular subject connected with his friend Temple.
Indeed this was easy enough to do; for heart and soul absorbed in the exciting enjoyment of scenes and circumstances in which he entered with such enthusiastic delight, Arthur was not very capable of pressing hard just now upon any serious point, not immediately connected with the interest of the day or the hour.
But when Mary, with whom the old man had hitherto as skilfully warded off any timid attempts on her part to draw him forth on the subject on which he was vowed to secresy—when she, one sultry afternoon, had been conversing for some time so delightfully with her dear old friend, concerning days gone by, in the cool marble sala of an old palazzo near Genoa, where they had found temporary accommodation—without any preparation, fixed her earnest eyes upon her companion's face, and said beseechingly:
"Mr. Wynne, will you answer me one question? you are acquainted I know, with everything concerning Mr. Temple; but I only wish to ascertain one point; was he ever acquainted with Eugene Trevor?"
The good man was taken by surprise, and displayed by his countenance considerable signs of embarrassment, succeeded, however, by equal symptoms of relief, when looking up he beheld Mr. Temple, who had joined them unobserved, and must inevitably have overheard Mary's words, and witnessed the perplexity they had occasioned her friend.
Mary's cheek also flushed deeply; yet when the next moment Mr. Wynne, with some careless excuse for leaving them, had walked away, and she found herself alone with him who best could answer to the question which had scarcely died upon her lips, she took courage, and with her eyelashes sweeping her varying cheek, in a low, yet steady voice, said: