He said you had been the real
romance of his life."
Catherine had suffered her companion to proceed from point to point,
and pause to pause, without interrupting her; she fixed her eyes on
the ground and listened. But the last phrase I have quoted was
followed by a pause of peculiar significance, and then, at last,
Catherine spoke. It will be observed that before doing so she had
received a good deal of information about Morris Townsend. "Please
say no more; please don't follow up that subject."
"Doesn't it interest you?" asked Mrs. Penniman, with a certain
timorous archness.
"It pains me," said Catherine.
"I was afraid you would say that. But don't you think you could get
used to it? He wants so much to see you."
"Please don't, Aunt Lavinia," said Catherine, getting up from her
seat. She moved quickly away, and went to the other window, which
stood open to the balcony; and here, in the embrasure, concealed from
her aunt by the white curtains, she remained a long time, looking out
into the warm darkness. She had had a great shock; it was as if the
gulf of the past had suddenly opened, and a spectral figure had risen
out of it. There were some things she believed she had got over,
some feelings that she had thought of as dead; but apparently there
was a certain vitality in them still. Mrs. Penniman had made them
stir themselves. It was but a momentary agitation, Catherine said to
herself; it would presently pass away.
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