"I am afraid you do not exercise enough. I see Miss Atwood walking every pleasant afternoon. If you would join her sometimes, you might find a benefit from it."
Again Janet blushed as she answered, with a frank smile—
"Cousin Jane is very kind; but I believe she would do anything for me sooner than walk with me. At any rate, I would not like to place her in a position that would be so painful to her. And I do not like to walk by myself here."
Miss McLeod did not acknowledge, what Mr. Mainwaring had perceived, that a growing shyness had been coming over her since her residence in Westbridge, leading her to keep out of sight as much as possible. A very faint-hearted reformer was poor little Janet, and I am afraid that her co-workers would have disdained to acknowledge her.
"You have not made many acquaintances in Westbridge, I think, Miss McLeod?"
"No, none besides aunt Atwood's family and yourself."
"I am sorry for that, for there are many very agreeable and intelligent people here. Few country villages can boast of as good society. I do not see you often at church lately, I think."
"No, I do not go so regularly as I ought," said Janet, sadly.
"How would you like a class in the Sunday School? It might be an object of interest, and visiting your scholars would be a motive to take you out occasionally. The clergyman mentioned lately that they were very much in want of teachers."
The tears came in Janet's eyes. It seemed to her that Mr. Mainwaring must be trying to wound her, or that he was one of the most unobservant of men, that, with so little tact, he was reminding her of all the social duties and kindnesses from which she was debarred.