"
"Were you thinking of any one you know there just now, that caused your
inattention?"
"Why, certainly not, Mr. Winthrop. I do not care so very much for them as
that."
He was silent for a good while, in one of his abstracted moods; and,
thinking the lesson was over for that day, I was about to leave the room.
He arose, and, going to the window, stood looking out into the night--I
quietly watching him, and wondering of what he was so busily thinking.
Presently he turned, and, coming to the table where I was sitting, stood
looking down intently at me.
"Medoline, has it ever occurred to you that you are an unusually
attractive bit of womanhood?"
I drew back almost as if he had struck me a blow. He smiled.
"You are as odd as you are fascinating," he said.
He went to his writing-desk. I watched him unlock one of the drawers and
take out two envelopes. He came back and stood opposite me at the table.
"I received, a few days ago, a letter from my friend Bovyer, in which he
enclosed one for you, which I was at liberty to read. Probably I should
have submitted it to you earlier, but----"
He did not finish the sentence, and stood quietly while I read the
letter. The hot blood was crimsoning my neck and brow, and, without
raising my eyes, I pushed the letter across the table, without speaking.
He handed me another. A strong impulse seized me to fly from the room,
but I had not courage to execute my desire. The second letter was fully
as surprising as the first.
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