'"
Edward's manners and conduct caused her more real anxiety than anything
else. Indeed, no other thoughtfulness could be called anxiety compared to
this. His faults, she could not but perceive, were strengthening with his
strength, and growing with his growth. She could not help wondering whence
he obtained the money to pay for his dress, which she thought was of a
very expensive kind. She heard him also incidentally allude to "runs up
to town," of which, at the time, neither she nor her mother had been made
aware. He seemed confused when she questioned him about these, although he
tried to laugh it off; and asked her how she, a country girl, cooped up
among one set of people, could have any idea of the life it was necessary
for a man to lead who "had any hope of getting on in the world." He must
have acquaintances and connections, and see something of life, and make an
appearance. She was silenced, but not satisfied. Nor was she at ease with
regard to his health. He looked ill, and worn; and, when he was not
rattling and laughing, his face fell into a shape of anxiety and
uneasiness, which was new to her in it. He reminded her painfully of an
old German engraving she had seen in Mrs. Buxton's portfolio, called,
"Pleasure digging a Grave;" Pleasure being represented by a ghastly figure
of a young man, eagerly industrious over his dismal work.
A few days after he went away, Nancy came to her in her bed-room.
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