Cousin Charles's hawk eyes caught the look, and he heard me too, when
I tapped her shoulder till she turned round and smiled. I whispered,
"Mother, your eyes are as blue as the sea yonder, and I love you." She
glanced toward it; it was murmuring softly, creeping along the shore,
licking the rocks and sand as if recognizing a master. And I saw and
felt its steady, resistless heaving, insidious and terrible.

"Well," said father, "we will talk of it on the way to Milford."

"I have kinder of a creeping about your Cousin Charles, as you call
him," said Temperance, after she had closed the porch door. "He is too
much shut up for me. How's Mis Cousin Charles, I wonder?"

"He is fond of flowers," remarked Aunt Merce; "he examined all my
plants, and knew all their botanical names."

"That's a balm for every wound with you, isn't it?" Temperance said.
"I spose I can clean the parlor, unless Mis Carver and Chandler are
sitting in a row there?"

Veronica, who had hovered between the parlor and the hall while Cousin
Charles was taking his leave, so that she might avoid the necessity
of any direct notice of him, had heard his proposition about Rosville,
said, "Cassandra will go there."

"Do you feel it in your bones, Verry?" Temperance asked.

"Cassandra does."