She was trembling, and her
heart was beating so that she could feel it; but this also would
subside. Then, suddenly, while she waited for a return of her
calmness, she burst into tears. But her tears flowed very silently,
so that Mrs. Penniman had no observation of them. It was perhaps,
however, because Mrs. Penniman suspected them that she said no more
that evening about Morris Townsend.
CHAPTER XXXV
Her refreshed attention to this gentleman had not those limits of
which Catherine desired, for herself, to be conscious; it lasted long
enough to enable her to wait another week before speaking of him
again. It was under the same circumstances that she once more
attacked the subject. She had been sitting with her niece in the
evening; only on this occasion, as the night was not so warm, the
lamp had been lighted, and Catherine had placed herself near it with
a morsel of fancy-work. Mrs. Penniman went and sat alone for half an
hour on the balcony; then she came in, moving vaguely about the room.
At last she sank into a seat near Catherine, with clasped hands, and
a little look of excitement.
"Shall you be angry if I speak to you again about HIM?" she asked.
Catherine looked up at her quietly. "Who is HE?"
"He whom you once loved."
"I shall not be angry, but I shall not like it."
"He sent you a message," said Mrs. Penniman. "I promised him to
deliver it, and I must keep my promise.
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