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"Why ought he to know?" asked Imogene, doubtless with that impulse to temporise which is natural to the human soul in questions of right and interest. She sank into the chair beside which she had been standing. "If your mother consents, you will feel bound to Mr. Colville?" "Yes," said the girl. "And if she refuses?" "He has my word. I will keep my word to him," replied Imogene huskily.
Thankful, still busy in the kitchen, where she had been joined by Imogene, sent the latter to find out what was the matter. Imogene returned, grinning. "He wants his flannels," she announced. "Wants to know where them winter flannels Mrs. Pease sent home yesterday are. Why, ain't they in his room, he says." Thankful sniffed.
"And I know her to be the soul of honour," said Colville, ignoring the childish outburst. "Honour like a man's," he added. "And, Imogene, I want you to promise me that you'll not think of her any more in that way. I want you to think of her as faithful and loving to you, for she is so. Will you do it?" Imogene did not answer him at once. Then she turned upon him a face of radiant self-abnegation.
Sometimes in the evening, while the others were smoking together or playing whist, Waldershare and Imogene, sitting apart, were engaged in apparently the most interesting converse. It was impossible not to observe the animation and earnestness of Waldershare, and the great attention with which his companion responded to his representations.
Why, meeting, did we not hate each other like our fated race? My heart is distracted. Can this misery be love? Yet I adore thee 'Lady! said the page, advancing, 'the priest approaches. The Lady Imogene rose, and crossed herself before the altar. 'To-morrow, at this hour, whispered Lothair. The Lady Imogene nodded assent, and, leaning on her page, quitted the shrine.
Either Hannah's got to say 'dum' when Imogene says 'dee' or she stands a chance to lose her brother or his money, one or t'other, and she'd rather lose the fust than the last, I'll bet you. Ho, ho! Yes, it does look as if Imogene had Hannah in a clove hitch. . . . Well, I'm goin' over to see what the next doin's in the circus is liable to be. I wouldn't miss any of THIS show for no money.
Bowen asked him to read it," Imogene continued. "Did she?" asked Colville pensively. "And then we discussed it afterward. We had a long discussion. And then he read us the 'Legend of Pornic, and we had a discussion about that. Mrs. Bowen says it was real gold they found in the coffin; but I think it was the girl's 'gold hair. I don't know which Mr. Morion thought. Which do you?
Bowen went to say good night to Effie, after the child had gone to bed, she lingered. "Effie," she said at last, in a husky whisper, "what did Imogene say to Mr. Colville to-day that made him laugh?" "I don't know," said the child. "They kept laughing at so many things." "Laughing?" "Yes; he laughed. Do you mean toward the last, when he had been throwing stones into the river?"
Can't you see that it would?" "Oh yes." Mrs. Bowen lingered, as if she expected Imogene to say something more, but she did not, and Mrs. Bowen rose. "Then I hope we understand each other," she said, and went out of the room. When Colville came in the morning, Mrs. Bowen received him. They shook hands, and their eyes met in the intercepting glance of the night before.
They're awful cheap and handy. You just pour in hot water and there's more'n enough for a meal. Good-by." Imogene, when she returned from the Fair, announced that she had had a perfectly lovely time. "He ain't such bad company Kenelm, I mean," she observed. "He talks a lot, but you don't have to listen unless you want to; and he enjoys himself real well, considerin' how little practice he's had."
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