It now impresses me that, if I erred at all in regard
to Hollingsworth, Zenobia, and Priscilla, it was through too much
sympathy, rather than too little.
To escape the irksomeness of these meditations, I resumed my post at
the window. At first sight, there was nothing new to be noticed.
The general aspect of affairs was the same as yesterday, except that
the more decided inclemency of to-day had driven the sparrows to
shelter, and kept the cat within doors; whence, however, she soon
emerged, pursued by the cook, and with what looked like the better
half of a roast chicken in her mouth. The young man in the
dress-coat was invisible; the two children, in the story below,
seemed to be romping about the room, under the superintendence of a
nursery-maid. The damask curtains of the drawing-room, on the first
floor, were now fully displayed, festooned gracefully from top to
bottom of the windows, which extended from the ceiling to the carpet.
A narrower window, at the left of the drawing-room, gave light to
what was probably a small boudoir, within which I caught the faintest
imaginable glimpse of a girl's figure, in airy drapery. Her arm was
in regular movement, as if she were busy with her German worsted, or
some other such pretty and unprofitable handiwork.
While intent upon making out this girlish shape, I became sensible
that a figure had appeared at one of the windows of the drawing-room.
There was a presentiment in my mind; or perhaps my first glance,
imperfect and sidelong as it was, had sufficed to convey subtile
information of the truth.
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