However, I determined to be cool and civil. Eliza seemed to have made the same resolution on her part. We had not met since the evening of the tea-party; but there was no visible emotion either of pleasure or pain, no attempt at pathos, no display of injured pride: she was cool in temper, civil in demeanour. There was even an ease and cheerfulness about her air and manner that I made no pretension to; but there was a depth of malice in her too expressive eye, that plainly told me I was not forgiven; for, though she no longer hoped to win me to herself, she still hated her rival, and evidently delighted to wreak her spite on me. On the other hand, Miss Wilson was as affable and courteous as heart could wish and though I was in no very conversable humour myself, the two ladies between them managed to keep up a pretty continuous fire of small talk. But Eliza took advantage of the first convenient pause to ask if I had lately seen Mrs Graham, in a tone of merely casual inquiry, but with a sidelong glance--intended to be playfully mischievous--really, brimful and running over with malice.
"Not lately," I replied, in a careless tone, but sternly repelling her odious glances with my eyes; for I was vexed to feel the colour mounting to my forehead, despite my strenuous efforts to appear unmoved.
"What! are you beginning to tire already? I thought so noble a creature would have power to attach you for a year at least!"
"I would rather not speak of her now."
"Ah! then you are convinced at last, of your mistake--you have at length discovered that your divinity is not quite the immaculate--`'
"I desired you not to speak of her, Miss Eliza."
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I perceive Cupid's arrows have been too sharp for you: the wounds being more than skin-deep, are not yet healed and bleed afresh at every mention of the loved one's name."
"Say rather," interposed Miss Wilson, "that Mr Markham feels that name is unworthy to be mentioned in the presence of right. minded females.
I wonder, Eliza, you should think of referring to that unfortunate person--you might know the mention of her would be anything but agreeable to anyone here present."
How could this be borne? I rose and was about to clap my hat upon my head and burst away, in wrathful indignation, from the house; but recollecting--just in time to save my dignity--the folly of such a proceeding, and how it would only give my fair tormentors a merry laugh at my expense, for the sake of one I acknowledged in my own heart to be unworthy of the slightest sacrifice--though the ghost of my former reverence and love so hung about me still, that I could not bear to hear her name aspersed by others--I merely walked to the window, and having spent a few seconds in vengeably biting my lips, and sternly repressing the passionate heavings of my chest, I observed to Miss Wilson that I could see nothing of her brother, and added that as my time was precious, it would perhaps be better to call again to-morrow, at some time when I should be sure to find him at home.
"Oh no!" said she, "if you wait a minute, he will be sure to come; for he has business at L--`' (that was our market town) "and will require a little refreshment before he goes."
I submitted accordingly, with the best grace I could; and happily, I had not long to wait. Mr Wilson soon arrived, and indisposed for business as I was at that moment, and little as I cared for the field or its owner, I forced my attention to the matter in hand, with very creditable determination, and quickly concluded the bargain--perhaps more to the thrifty farmer's satisfaction than he cared to acknowledge. Then, leaving him to the discussion of his substantial "refreshment," I gladly quitted the house, and went to look after my reapers.
Leaving them busy at work on the side of the valley, I ascended the hill, intending to visit a cornfield in the more elevated regions, and see when it would be ripe for the sickle. But I did not visit it that day; for, as I approached, I beheld at no great distance Mrs Graham and her son coming down in the opposite direction. They saw me; and Arthur, already, was running to meet me; but I immediately turned back and walked steadily homeward; for I had fully determined never to encounter his mother again; and regardless of the shrill voice in my ear, calling upon me to "wait a moment," I pursued the even tenor of my way; and he soon relinquished the pursuit as hopeless, or was called away his mother. At all events, when I looked back, five minutes after, not a trace of either was to be seen.
This incident agitated and disturbed me most unaccountably--unless you would account for it by saying that Cupid's arrows not only had been too sharp for me, but they were barbed and deeply rooted, and I had not yet been able to wrench them from my heart. However that be, I was rendered doubly miserable for the remainder of the day.