Mr.
Winthrop walked leisurely towards the door. I dropped behind, not wishing
to bow to her in his presence, and not capable either of the rudeness of
passing her without a friendly nod. My heart beat thickly as I saw him
approaching nearer to her, and a moment after they were side by side. She
partly turned her face toward him, an expression of contrition and
appeal, making her beauty well-nigh irresistible. I gazed, fascinated;
then after awhile I turned my eyes to Mr. Winthrop. I felt a sudden
relief when I saw the same unconcerned expression that was habitual to
him. Mrs. Le Grande looked him, for an instant, full in the face, when a
swift change came over her own countenance. For the first time, probably,
she realized that her power and fascination had lost their effect on him.
A crimson flush of shame and anger swept over cheek and brow, as quickly
followed by a deathly pallor. Mr. Winthrop, without noticing her
presence, walked leisurely on. She stood perfectly still, leaning her
hand, as if for support, against the back of a pew. I hastened to her
side, pitying her deeply in her disappointment. She gave me a dazed look,
scarce seeming to recognize me; I paused an instant and held out my hand,
but she did not seem to notice it. She looked so wan and wretched I felt
I must try to comfort her, though at the risk of Mr. Winthrop's
displeasure.
"You are not looking well," I said compassionately. "Is there anything
I can do for you?"
"You would not dare, even if you were willing, with that merciless man so
near," she said, faintly.
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