The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

56 THE EVIL GENIUS. Opening the door for his companion, Linley paused before he followed herin. A girl brought up by a careful mother would have understood and appreciated his hesitation; she would have concealed any little feeling of embarrassment that might have troubled her at the moment, and would have asked him to come back and let her know when the rising of the sun began. Neg- lected by her mother, worse than neglected by her aunt, Syd- ney’s fearless ignorance put a question which would have low- ered the poor girl cruelly in the estimation of a stranger. ‘‘ Are you going to leave me here by myself?’ she asked. ‘‘ Why don’t you come in ?” Linley thought of his visit to the school, and remembered the detestable mistress. He excused Sydney; he felt for her. She held the door open for him. Sure of himself, he entered the summer-house. As a iuark of respect on her part, she offered the arm-chair to him; it was the one comfortable seat in the neglected place. He insisted that she should take it; and, searching the summer- house, found a wooden stool for himself. The small circular room received but little of the dim outer light—they were near each other—they were silent. Sydney burst suddenly into a nervous little laugh. ‘Why do you laugh ?” he asked, good-humoredly. ‘‘It seems so strange, Mr. Linley, for us to be out here.” In the moment when she made that reply her merriment vanished; she looked out sadly, through the open door, at the stillness of the night. ‘‘ What should I have done,” she wondered, “ if I had been shut out of the house by myself?” Her eyes rested on him timidly; there was some thought in her which she shrank from expressing. She only said: ‘‘I wish I knew how to be worthy of your kindness.” Her voice warned him that she was struggling with strong emotion. In one respect men are all alike; they hate to see a woman in tears. Linley treated her like a child; he smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. ‘‘ Nonsense!” he said, gayly. ‘* There is no merit in being kind to my good little governess.” She took that comforting hand—it was a harmless impulse that she was unable to resist—she bent over it, and kissed it gratefully. He drew his hand away from her as if the soft touch of her lips had been fire that burnt it. ‘‘Oh,” she cried, ‘*have I done wrong ?” ‘‘No, my dear—no, no.” There was an embarrassment in his manner, the inevitable re sult of his fear of himself if he faltered in the resolute exercise of self-restraint, which was perfectly incomprehensible to Syd- ney. He moved his seat back a little, so as to place himself further away. Something in that action, at that time, shocked and humiliated her. Completely misunderstanding him, she thought he was reminding her of the distance that separated them in social rank. Oh, the shame of it! the shame of it! Would other governesses have taken a liberty with their mas- ter? A fit of hysterical sobbing burst its way through her last Gomichbooks (c©@)