"How do you do, Mary?" the young man said, as she entered the room, rising, and advancing to meet her. He smiled and extended his hand; but his smile was cold, and his manner constrained. Mary was equally cold and restrained. She allowed him to take her hand, but without returning the slight pressure he gave. Dunbar made no allusion to the fact of his not having visited her for an unusually long space of time.
"Have you been well, Mary?" he asked, in such a marked tone of indifference as caused a spot on the maiden's cheek suddenly to burn.
"Well, I thank you," she said, formally. Their eyes met, and remained fixed for a moment, then both fell to the floor.
"You do not look very well," remarked Dunbar, speaking with evident embarrassment.
Mary uttered no reply. There was a silence of some moments; then she said, with some firmness of tone—
"It is some time since you were here, Mr. Dunbar."
"Yes," he replied, "it is. About four weeks I think."
"A few months ago you did not allow so long a time to pass without seeing me." Mary's eyes were full upon him, and their glance firm and penetrating.
"True," he replied. "I had more leisure on my hands then. But—"
The fixed look of the maiden, that seemed as if reading his very thoughts, disturbed him. He paused, stammered, and let his eyes fall to the floor.