Part 63 (2/2)

While she walked to and fro with fawn-like grace, conversing with Mr.

Coventry, yet secretly wondering what that strange look Jael had given her could mean, Henry leaned, sick at heart, against the lamp-post over the way; and, at last, a groan forced its way out of him.

Faint as the sound was, Grace's quick ear caught it, and she turned her head. She saw him directly, and blushed high, and turned pale, all in a moment; for, in that single moment, her swift woman's heart told her why he was so ghastly, and why that sigh of distress.

She stopped short in her walk, and began to quiver from head to foot.

But, after a few moments of alarm, distress, and perplexity, love and high spirit supplied the place of tact, and she did the best and most characteristic thing she could. Just as Mr. Coventry, who had observed her s.h.i.+ver, was asking her if she found it too cold, she drew herself up to her full height, and, turning round, kissed her hand over the balcony to Henry Little with a sort of princely grandeur, and an ardor of recognition and esteem that set his heart leaping, and his pale cheek blus.h.i.+ng, and made Coventry jealous in his turn. Yes, one eloquent gesture did that in a moment.

But the brave girl was too sensitive to prolong such a situation: the music recommenced at that moment, and she seized the opportunity, and retired to the room; she courtesied to Little at the window, and this time he had the sense to lift his hat to her.

The moment she entered the room Grace Carden slipped away from Mr.

Coventry, and wound her way like a serpent through the crowd, and found Jael Dence at the door. She caught her by the arm, and pinched her. She was all trembling. Jael drew her up the stairs a little way.

”You have seen him out there?”

”Yes; and I--oh!”

”There! there. Think of the folk. Fight it down.”

”I will. Go to him, and say I can't bear it. Him to stand there--while those I don't care a pin for--oh, Jael, for pity's sake get him home to his mother.”

”There, don't you fret. I know what to say.”

Jael went down; borrowed the first shawl she could lay her hand on; hooded herself with it, and was across the road in a moment.

”You are to go home directly.”

”Who says so?”

”She does.”

”What, does she tell me to go away, and leave her to him?”

”What does that matter? her heart goes with you.”

”No, no.”

”Won't you take my word for it? I'm not given to lying.”

”I know that. Oh, Jael, sweet, pretty, good-hearted Jael, have pity on me, and tell me the truth: is it me she loves, or that Coventry?”

”It is you.”

”Oh, bless you! bless you! Ah, if I could only be sure of that, what wouldn't I do for her? But, if she loves me, why, why send me away? It is very cruel that so many should be in the same room with her, and HE should dance with her, and I must not even look on and catch a glimpse of her now and then. I won't go home.”

”Ah!” said Jael, ”you are like all the young men: you think only of yourself. And you call yourself a scholar of the good doctor's.”

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