Chapter V: So--a month has passed

My coat, it seems, is to be the constant topic of attention.

A day or two since, I was sitting in my chamber, reflecting upon a variety of things. My thoughts, at last, centred on the deficiencies of my wardrobe, and I muttered, "I must certainly have my coat mended soon;" and I looked down, sighing, at the hole in my elbow.... It had disappeared! There was no longer any rent. The torn cloth had been mended in the neatest manner; so neatly, indeed, that the orifice was almost invisible. Who could have done it, and how? I have one coat only, and--yes! it must have been! I saw, in a moment, the whole secret: that noise, and the voice of Sarah, the old chambermaid.

I rose and went out on the staircase; I met the good crone.

"How did you find my coat in the dark?" I said, smiling; "and now you must let me make you a present for mending it, Sarah."

Sarah hesitated, plainly; but honesty conquered. She refused the money, which, nevertheless, I gave her; and, from her careless replies, I soon discovered the real truth.

The coat had been mended by Annie!

I descended to the drawing-room, and finding her alone, thanked her with simplicity and sincerity. She blushed and pouted.

"Who told you?" she asked.

"No one; but I discovered it from Sarah; she was unguarded."

"Well, sir," said Annie, blushing still, but laughing, "there is no reason for your being so grateful, I thought I would mend it, as I formerly laughed at it--and I hope it is neatly done."

"It is scarcely visible," I said, with a smile and a bow; "I shall keep this coat always to remind me of your delicate kindness."

"Pshaw! 'twas nothing."

And running to the piano, the young girl commenced a merry song, which rang through the old hall like the carol of a bird. Her voice was so inexpressibly sweet that it made my pulses throb and my heart ache. I did not know the expression of my countenance, as I looked at her, until turning toward me, I saw her suddenly color to the roots of her hair.

I felt, all at once, that I had fixed upon her one of those looks which say as plainly as words could utter: "I love you with all the powers of my nature, all the faculties of my being--you are dearer to me than the whole wide world beside!"

Upon my word of honor as a gentleman, I did not know that I loved Annie--I was not conscious that I was gazing at her with that look of inexpressible tenderness. Her sudden blush cleared up everything like a flash of lightning--I rose, set my lips together, and bowed. I could scarcely speak--I muttered "pray excuse me," and left the apartment.

On the next morning I begged the squire to release me from the completion of my task--I had a friend who could perform the duties as well as myself, and who would come to the hall for that purpose, inasmuch as the account books could not be removed--I must go.

The formal and ceremonious old gentleman did not ask my reasons for this sudden act--he simply inclined his head--and said that he would always be glad to serve me. With a momentary pressure of Annie's cold hand, and a low bow to the frigid Mrs. Barrington, I departed.