"I wish, Miss Whitmore, that I could satisfactorily answer all your
generous inquiries with regard to Mary Mathews. But I know and hear so
little of the gossip of the village, and with the poor girl's private
history I am totally unacquainted--nay, the girl herself is to me a
perfect stranger. No person is better able to give you the information
you require than my cousin Anthony; he knows Mary well. In spite of my
father's prohibitions, she was always a chosen playfellow of his. He
professes a great admiration for this beautiful peasant, and takes a
deep interest in all that concerns her."
Why did Juliet's cheek at that moment grow so very pale? Why did she
sigh so deeply, and suddenly drop a conversation which she had commenced
with such an apparent concern for the person who had formed the subject
of it? Love may have its joys, but oh, how painfully are they contrasted
with its doubts and fears! She had suffered the serpent of jealousy to
coil around her heart, and for the first time felt its envenomed sting.
When Anthony returned to his seat he found his fair companion unusually
cold and reserved. A few minutes after, she complained of sudden
indisposition, and left the room, and she did not return that evening.
That night, Juliet wept herself to sleep. "Is it not evident," she said
to herself, "that this poor Mary is in love with Anthony Hurdlestone,
and can I be base enough to add another pang to a heart already deeply
wounded, by endeavoring to gain his affections? No.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182