seemed like the natural expression of the face, and was the more provoking to me, because I could nor think it affected.
"Good morning, Mr. Markham," said she; and without another word or glance, she withdrew, with her child into the garden; and I returned home, angry and dissatisfied—I could scarcely tell you why—and therefore will not attempt it.
I only stayed to put away my gun and powder-horn, and give some requisite directions to one of the farming-men, and then repaired to the vicarage, to solace my spirit and sooth my ruffled temper with the company and conversation of Eliza Millward.
I found her, as usual, busy with some piece of soft embroidery, (the mania for Berlin wools had not yet commenced,) while her sister was seated at the chimney-corner, with the cat on her knee, mending a heap of stockings.
"Mary—Mary! put them away!" Eliza was hastily saying just as I entered the room.
