April gave place to May, and a veil hung between the lovers,--an intangible,
gossamer-like thing, not to be seen with the naked eye, but, oh! so plainly to
be felt. Rose hid herself thankfully behind it, while Stephen had not courage
to lift a corner. She had twice been seen driving with Claude Merrill--that
Stephen knew; but she had explained that there were errands to be done, that
her grandfather had taken the horse, and that Mr. Merrill's escort had been
both opportune and convenient for these practical reasons. Claude was
everywhere present, the center of attraction, the observed of all observers.
He was irresistible, contagious, almost epidemic. Rose was now gay, now
silent; now affectionate, now distant, now coquettish; in fine, everything
that was capricious, mysterious, agitating, incomprehensible.
One morning Alcestis Crambry went to the post-office for Stephen and brought
him back the newspapers and letters. He had hung about the River Farm so much
that Stephen finally gave him bed and food in exchange for numberless small
errands. Rufus was temporarily confined in a dark room with some strange pain
and trouble in his eyes, and Alcestis proved of use in many ways.
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