All my study would now be to avoid Mr. Chandos. Entirely I could not; for we must meet at the daily repasts when he chose to sit down to them. In that I could not help myself. I was very silent that morning, and he was busy with his newspapers.
He rode out after breakfast; to attend some county meeting, it was said; and returned at four o'clock. I remained in my own room until dinner-time; but I had to go down then.
He appeared inclined to be thoroughly sociable; talked and laughed; and told me of a ludicrous scene which had occurred at the meeting; but I was cold and reserved, scarcely answering him. He regarded me keenly, as if debating with himself what it could be that had so changed my manner. When the servants had withdrawn, I quitted my place at table, and sat down in a low chair near the fire.
"Why do you go there?" said Mr. Chandos. "You will take some dessert?"
"Not this evening."
"But why?"
"My head aches."
He quitted the table, came up, and stood before me. "Anne, what is the matter with you?"
My breath was coming quickly, my swelling heart seemed as if it must burst. All the past rose up forcibly before me; he, a married man, had mocked me with his love; had—oh, worse than all!—gained mine. It was a crying insult; and it was wringing bitterly every sense of feeling I possessed. Anything else I could have borne. Mrs. Penn had hinted at some great crime; words of his own had confirmed it. Had he committed every crime known to man, I could have better forgiven it. But for this deliberate deceit upon me, there could be no forgiveness: and there could be no cure, no comfort for my lacerated heart.
"Are you angry with me for any cause? Have I offended you?"