She trembled and glowed at the
very sight of them, for she had in herself the instinct of sacred
numbers, and in her soul felt a vague hunger after what might be
contained in those loose papers--into which she did not even peep,
instinctively knowing it dishonorable. She trembled yet more at
recognizing the beautiful youth in the same house with her, to whom she
did service, as himself one of those gifted creatures whom most she
revered--a poet, perhaps another such as Milton! Neither are all ladies,
nor all servants of ladies, honorable like Annie, or fit as she to be
left alone with a man's papers.
Hector knew very well how his mother would regard such an alliance as
had now begun to absorb every desire and thought of his heart, and was
the more careful to watch and repress every sign of the same, foreseeing
that, at the least suspicion of the fact, she would lay all the blame
upon Annie, at once dismiss her from the house, and remain forever
convinced that she had entered it with the design in her heart to make
him fall in love with her. He therefore avoided ever addressing her,
except with a distant civility, the easier to him that his mind was
known only to himself, while all the time the consciousness of her
presence in it enveloped the house in a rosy cloud. For a long time he
did not even dream of attempting a word with her alone, fondly imagining
that thus he gave his mother time to know and love Annie before
discovering anything between them to which she might object.
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