She had become
conscious of his somewhat sombre figure, uplifted against the wall, near
the door; he was leaning there in solitude, unacquainted with
opportunities which Miss Birdseye felt to be, collectively, of value,
and which were really, of course, what strangers came to Boston for. It
did not occur to her to ask herself why Miss Chancellor didn't talk to
him, since she had brought him; Miss Birdseye was incapable of a
speculation of this kind. Olive, in fact, had remained vividly conscious
of her kinsman's isolation until the moment when Mrs. Farrinder lifted
her, with a word, to a higher plane. She watched him across the room;
she saw that he might be bored. But she proposed to herself not to mind
that; she had asked him, after all, not to come. Then he was no worse
off than others; he was only waiting, like the rest; and before they
left she would introduce him to Mrs. Farrinder. She might tell that lady
who he was first; it was not every one that would care to know a person
who had borne such a part in the Southern disloyalty. It came over our
young lady that when she sought the acquaintance of her distant kinsman
she had indeed done a more complicated thing than she suspected.
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