"I wish I were. But I fear I am not. I know that Mr. Tudor looked
around toward you suddenly, and I noticed that he was much more
particular afterward in his attentions to the rest of the company.
At table, you may have yourself remarked this."

"Yes, I noticed it."

"And yet, even at the table, when he was doing his best, you again
hurt his feelings."

"Me!"

"Yes, you. When Mrs. Tudor spoke harshly to Lucy, or did something
or other that you thought out of the way, you must look your sarcasm
at me, notwithstanding the eyes of her husband were upon you."

"But he didn't see me, then."

"Yes, but he did. I saw him looking directly at you."

"Oh, no! it cannot be." I was unwilling to believe this.

"I wish it were not so for my husband's sake," returned Mrs.
Sunderland. "But the evidence of my senses I generally find it
necessary to credit."

I must own that I felt considerably cut up, or cut down, whichever
is the most mortifying state to be in. To look and whisper my
censure in company, I had thought no great harm; but now that I had
found I had been discovered in the act, I had a mortifying sense of