"Maybe it is. Jane Dixon was saying, Sunday, that this mild weather
was not seasonable, and that she liked a good sharp frost, and a good
long walk." Susan quivered as the name came from George's lips. But
George was not yet in love with Jane, and no consciousness prevented
his uttering the name freely. Susan had almost said, "So, you were
walking with Jane Dixon, Sunday!" but she checked the remark, mentally
saying, "and why should he not walk with Jane? and why should he not
marry Jane? Why should I fret? I ought to hope Jane may draw him away
from idle companions and bad company. I fretted when I thought he was
taking to such courses; surely I ought to be glad if anybody else gets
the power I have lost to lure him from evil ways. Poor fellow! he would
never have thought of such things if I had not been afflicted as I am.
If he had married, and had a comfortable home, he would have gone on
being steady. Yes, I ought to hope he may marry Jane Dixon, and make
her a good husband." But, school herself as she would, she did fret;
and all the placidity of mind which she had laboured to acquire was
gone. Night and day did she think of George and Jane, and constantly
did she fancy them walking through the same lanes, strolling up the
same field-paths, loitering along the same head-lands, where she had
so often wandered with George. Long before such things did occur, had
she imagined them. But in the course of a few months, that which her
reason wished, but her feelings dreaded, came to pass. George's visits
became more and more rare; and when he did look in, Jane Dixon's name
was never breathed.
There was an awkwardness in his manner, and he almost exclusively
addressed himself to Nicholas. Susan was all gentleness, and
invariably, when he took leave, thanked him for calling, in a subdued
manner, which showed how entirely she felt it was from motives of
charity, and not from preference, that he now visited them. George,
without decyphering what caused the change in her tone, was aware that
she read his mind, and he became ill at ease in her presence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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