"You look alarmed," said I, in surprise; "and why? Am I then so frightful?"
She seized my hand and covered it with kisses. This new outburst surprised me as much as her former fear. I did not know what to do. "Ah! my sweet child, my dearest!" she murmured. "How did you come here, here of all places on earth?"
I was touched by the tenderness and sympathy of her tone. It was full of the gentlest love. "How did you come here?" I asked.
She started and turned on me her former look of fear.
"Do not look at me so," said I, "dear Mrs. Compton. You are timid. Do not be afraid of me. I am incapable of inspiring fear." I pressed her hand. "Let us say nothing more now about the place. We each seem to know what it is. Since I find one like you living here it will not seem altogether a place of despair."
"Oh, door child, what words are these? You speak as if you knew all."
"I know much," said I, "and I have suffered much."
"Ah, my dearest! you are too young and too beautiful to suffer." An agony of sorrow came over her face. Then I saw upon it an expression which I have often marked since, a strange straggling desire to say something, which that excessive and ever-present terror of hers made her incapable of uttering. Some secret thought was in her whole face, but her faltering tongue was paralyzed and could not divulge it.
She turned away with a deep sigh. I looked at her with much interest. She was not the woman I expected to find. Her face and voice won my heart. She was certainly one to be trusted. But still there was this mystery about her.
Nothing could exceed her kindness and tenderness. She arranged my room. She did every thing that could be done to give it an air of comfort. It was a very luxuriously furnished chamber. All the house was lordly in its style and arrangements. That first night I slept the sleep of the weary.
The next day I spent in my room, occupied with my own sad thoughts. At about three in the afternoon I saw _him_ come up the avenue My heart throbbed violently. My eyes were riveted upon that well-known face, how loved! how dear! In vain I tried to conjecture the reason why he should come. Was it to strike the first blow in his just, his implacable vengeance? I longed that I might receive that blow. Any thing that came from _him_ would be sweet.