This afternoon she had scarcely looked into his eyes, but she felt their gaze upon her, and felt their power as of old--ah, fifty-fold stronger! Was he married?
It was more than possible.

Nothing had escaped him inconsistent with that, and he was not likely to speak of it directly.
It would account for the nature of his embarrassment in talking with her; her keen insight distinguished something more than the hesitation which common memories would naturally cause.

And that pressure of the hand at parting which had made her heart leap with such agony, might well be his way of intimating to her that this meeting would have no sequel.

Was it to be expected that he should remain unmarried?
Had she hoped it?
It could not be called hope, but for two or three years something had grown in her which made life a succession of alternating longings and despairs.

For Emily was not so constituted that the phase of thought and feeling which had been brought about by the tragedy of her home could perpetuate itself and become her normal consciousness.