WYLDER'S HAJVD.
31
I was ridiculously annoyed with myself. The position of
a shy man, who has just made an unintelligible joke at a
dinner-table, was not more pregnant with self-reproach
and embarrassment.
Upon my honor, I don't think there was anything of
the rouS in me. I own I did feel towards this lady, who
seemed to me so singular, a mysterious interest just begin-
ning — of that peculiar kind which becomes at last terribly
absorbing. I was more elated by her trifling notice of me
than I can quite account for. I think if she had listened
to me with even the faintest intimation of caring whether
I spoke in this tone or not, with even a flash of momenta-
ry resentment, I might have rushed into a most reprehen-
sible and ridiculous rigmarole. But she was looking, just,
as before, at the miniature, as it seemed to, me, in fancy
infusing some of the spirit I had described into the artist's
record, and she said, only in soliloquy, as it were, "Yes,
I see — I think I see."
So there was a pause; and then she said, without re-
moving her eyes from the miniature, " You are, I believe,
Mr. De Cresseron, a very old friend of Mr. Wylder's.
Is it not so?"
So soon after my little escapade, I did not like the
question; but it was answered. There was not the faint-
est trace of a satirical meaning, however, in her face; and
after another very considerable interval, at the end of which
she shut the miniature in its case, she said, "It was a
peculiar face, and very beautiful. It is odd how many of
our family married for love — wild love-matches. My
poor mother was the last. I could point you out many
pictures, and tell you stories — my cousin, Rachel, knows
them all. You know Rachel Lake?"
"I've not the honor, of knowing Miss Lake. I had
not an opportunity of making her acquaintance yesterday;
but I know her brother — so does Wylder."