for her fault. Accordingly, the next time her cousin appeared in the
parlor she was all smiles and affability, talking a great deal to
'Lena, who returned very short but civil answers, while her face wore
a look which Durward construed into defiance and hatred of everybody
and everything.

"Too passionate," thought he, turning from her to Carrie, whose
voice, modulated to its softest tones, rang out clear and musical, as
she sported and laughed with her moody cousin, appearing the very
essence of sweetness and amiability!

Pity he could not have known how bitterly 'Lena had wept over her
hasty action--not because _he_ witnessed it, but because she knew it
was wrong! Pity he could not have read the tear-blotted note, which
she laid on Carrie's work-box, and in which was written, "I am sorry,
Carrie, that I hurt you so. I didn't know what I was about, but I
will try and not get so angry again."

Pity, too, that he did not see the look of contempt with which Carrie
perused this note; and when the two girls accidentally met in the
upper hall, and 'Lena laid her hand gently on Carrie's arm, it is a
thousand pities he was not present to see how fiercely she was
repulsed, Carrie exclaiming, "Get out of my sight! _I hate you_, and
so do all of them downstairs, Durward in particular."

Had he known all this he would have thought differently of 'Lena,
who, feeling that she was not wanted in the parlor, kept herself
entirely aloof, never again appearing during the remainder of his
stay. Once Durward asked for her, and half laughingly Carrie
replied, that "she had not yet recovered from her pouting fit."