She
saw that he was honestly bewildered and that in a moment more he would
laugh at her, as he had done a year and a half before (she remembered it
as if it had been yesterday); and to stop that off, at any cost, she
went on hurriedly--"If you listen to Miss Tarrant, you will know what I
mean."
"Oh, Miss Tarrant--Miss Tarrant!" And Basil Ransom's laughter came.
She had not escaped that mockery, after all, and she looked at him
sharply now, her embarrassment having quite cleared up. "What do you
know about her? What observation have you had?"
Ransom met her eye, and for a moment they scrutinised each other. Did
she know of his interview with Verena a month before, and was her
reserve simply the wish to place on him the burden of declaring that he
had been to Boston since they last met, and yet had not called in
Charles Street? He thought there was suspicion in her face; but in
regard to Verena she would always be suspicious. If he had done at that
moment just what would gratify him he would have said to her that he
knew a great deal about Miss Tarrant, having lately had a long walk and
talk with her; but he checked himself, with the reflexion that if Verena
had not betrayed him it would be very wrong in him to betray her. The
sweetness of the idea that she should have thought the episode of his
visit to Monadnoc Place worth placing under the rose, was quenched for
the moment in his regret at not being able to let his disagreeable
cousin know that he had passed _her_ over.
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