But
the artistic eye was, either from nature or circumstance, very
faint in Stephen now, and he only half attended to her
description, as if he spared time from some other thought going on
within him.
'Well, good-bye,' he said suddenly; 'I must never see you again, I
suppose, Miss Swancourt, in spite of invitations.'
His genuine tribulation played directly upon the delicate chords
of her nature. She could afford to forgive him for a concealment
or two. Moreover, the shyness which would not allow him to look
her in the face lent bravery to her own eyes and tongue.
'Oh, DO come again, Mr. Smith!' she said prettily.
'I should delight in it; but it will be better if I do not.'
'Why?'
'Certain circumstances in connection with me make it undesirable.
Not on my account; on yours.'
'Goodness! As if anything in connection with you could hurt me,'
she said with serene supremacy; but seeing that this plan of
treatment was inappropriate, she tuned a smaller note. 'Ah, I
know why you will not come. You don't want to. You'll go home to
London and to all the stirring people there, and will never want
to see us any more!'
'You know I have no such reason.'
'And go on writing letters to the lady you are engaged to, just as
before.'
'What does that mean? I am not engaged.'
'You wrote a letter to a Miss Somebody; I saw it in the letter-
rack.'
'Pooh! an elderly woman who keeps a stationer's shop; and it was
to tell her to keep my newspapers till I get back.
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