He was attentive to Hesper;
but she scarcely concealed such a repugnance to him as some feel
at sight of strange fishes--being at the same time afraid of him,
which was not surprising, as she could hardly fail to perceive
the fate intended for her.
"Ain't Miss Mortimer a stunner?" said George Turnbull to Mary,
when the tide of customers had finally ebbed from the shop.
"I don't exactly know what you mean, George," answered Mary.
"Oh, of course, I know it ain't fair to ask any girl to admire
another," said George. "But there's no offense to you, Mary. One
young lady can't carry _every_ merit on her back. She'd be
too lovely to live, you know. Miss Mortimer ain't got your waist,
nor she ain't got your 'ands, nor your 'air; and you ain't got
her size, nor the sort of hair she 'as with her."
He looked up from the piece of leno he was smoothing out, and saw
he was alone in the shop.
CHAPTER III.
THE ARBOR AT THORNWICK.
The next day was Sunday at last, a day dear to all who do
anything like their duty in the week, whether they go to church
or not. For Mary, she went to the Baptist chapel; it was her
custom, rendered holy by the companionship of her father. But
this day it was with more than ordinary restlessness and lack of
interest that she stood, knelt, and sat, through the routine of
observance; for old Mr. Duppa was certainly duller than usual:
how could it be otherwise, when he had been preparing to spend a
mortal hour in descanting on the reasons which necessitated the
separation of all true Baptists from all brother-believers? The
narrow, high-souled little man--for a soul as well as a forehead
can be both high and narrow--was dull that morning because he
spoke out of his narrowness, and not out of his height; and Mary
was better justified in feeling bored than even when George
Turnbull plagued her with his vulgar attentions.
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