This is partly to be explained by the innocence and boldness of her
character; and partly because James More, having sped so ill in his
interview with me, or had his mouth closed by my invitation, said
no word to her upon the subject. At the breakfast, accordingly, it
soon appeared we were at cross purposes. I had looked to find her
in clothes of her own: I found her (as if her father were
forgotten) wearing some of the best that I had bought for her, and
which she knew (or thought) that I admired her in. I had looked to
find her imitate my affectation of distance, and be most precise
and formal; instead I found her flushed and wild-like, with eyes
extraordinary bright, and a painful and varying expression, calling
me by name with a sort of appeal of tenderness, and referring and
deferring to my thoughts and wishes like an anxious or a suspected
wife.
But this was not for long. As I behold her so regardless of her
own interests, which I had jeopardised and was now endeavouring to
recover, I redoubled my own coldness in the manner of a lesson to
the girl. The more she came forward, the farther I drew back; the
more she betrayed the closeness of our intimacy, the more pointedly
civil I became, until even her father (if he had not been so
engrossed with eating) might have observed the opposition.
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