Now is my
opportunity to angle for its meaning. If I ask, boldly, what was
chat word she used just now, something like 'bilbie' or 'silvendy'?
she blushes, and says she never said anything so common, or hoots!
it is some auld-farrant word about which she can tell me nothing.
But if in the course of conversation I remark casually, 'Did he
find bilbie?' or 'Was that quite silvendy?' (though the sense of
the question is vague to me) she falls into the trap, and the words
explain themselves in her replies. Or maybe to-day she sees
whither I am leading her, and such is her sensitiveness that she is
quite hurt. The humour goes out of her face (to find bilbie in
some more silvendy spot), and her reproachful eyes - but now I am
on the arm of her chair, and we have made it up. Nevertheless, I
shall get no more old-world Scotch out of her this forenoon, she
weeds her talk determinedly, and it is as great a falling away as
when the mutch gives place to the cap.
I am off for my afternoon walk, and she has promised to bar the
door behind me and open it to none. When I return, - well, the
door is still barred, but she is looking both furtive and elated.
I should say that she is burning to tell me something, but cannot
tell it without exposing herself. Has she opened the door, and if
so, why? I don't ask, but I watch. It is she who is sly now.
'Have you been in the east room since you came in?' she asks, with
apparent indifference.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82