“He would not take the liberty,” said Charles, with a smile.
Catharine understood and returned the smile; then observed, “Stanley ought to go on the stage. He has great talents for playing ‘The Stranger.’ ”
Charles nodded his head, and then explained the origin of the intimacy between Dr. B. and Stanley, and left Catharine traveling in seven-league boots, till she ended her journey with Ada’s marriage.
Catharine had seen and heard too much that evening not to be primed for mischief; and an opportunity soon occurred which put to flight all her promises of neutrality. The dance was ended, and she had just comfortably married Ada, when she once more spied the object of her thoughts. She was alone, for her partner had gone in search of an ice for her; and her attitude was that of complete meditation. Slowly and deliberately she was tearing to pieces the prettiest flowers in her bouquet, without seeming to know what she did. Catharine had just seen Mr. Stanley leaning against the mantel-piece, gazing at Ada as if his whole soul had been in his eyes; she instantly converted what she saw into cause and effect; and delighted with her own penetration, she could not resist so favorable an occasion for displaying it.
Catharine was right as to the object, mistaken as to the cause of her friend’s meditation. Ada was thinking with genuine satisfaction of the very agreeable person whom she had just escaped hating; and though, like all generous minds, she liked him the better for her former injustice, her thoughts were neither of rapture nor of love; they wore the sober hue of justice; and if she was thinking of Mr. Stanley without prejudice, she was also thinking of him without enthusiasm, and she was unconscious of his gaze until Catharine called her attention to it.
“Where’s your bouquet, Ada?” said Catharine, pointing to the carnations and geraniums that strewed the floor; and looking so intensely mischievous, that Ada, innocent though she was, felt guilty.
“Really—I—it was so heavy,” stammered she, scarcely knowing what to say.
“Indeed!” said Catharine, significantly; “then do let me ask Mr. Stanley to come and hold it for you; it is the least he can do after causing its destruction—shall I call him?”
Ada followed the direction of Catharine’s eyes, and one glance at Mr. Stanley, gazing at her with an expression of intense admiration, explained what was passing in Catharine’s mind. Ada was not pleased with such public homage; moreover she had an aversion to what is commonly called “being teazed about a gentleman;” but this was no place to remonstrate with Catharine, and she resigned herself.
“Oh, no!” said she, smiling, “he has probably some object in view. Perhaps he is practicing for a tableau vivant, designed to represent Lara, or the leaning tower of Pisa. I have no desire to interfere with so rational an amusement.”