The next three or four days produced nothing remarkable. Margaret remained in close attendance on her mother, who did her best to make her feel like a naughty child. Her only solace was Rose's sympathy; but notwithstanding it, she felt at times most dreadfully wicked, and always depressed and contrite. Only the thought of Walter's loneliness at Lippenstock kept her true; and she did contrive to send him little notes, and to receive through Rosa notes in return, notwithstanding the sharp eye which her mother kept upon her movements.
Rose herself continued feverish and uncertain enough to occasion surprise to all her friends. She, so light-hearted and brave, so bright and clever--that she should appear in the character of tremulous and wistful maid, on the fulfilment of what had seemed her dearest wish! She was as kind and intimate with Joseph as ever; and he told himself that he had nothing to complain of, that he must remember their difference in age, and that with time they would grow nearer to one another. But still he felt a barrier between them--a reserve which all his ardour failed to surmount--an unresponsive silence when his raptures strove to fit themselves to words, which chilled him in spite of his assurances to himself that all was well. In desultory conversation she would be as bright as ever; but as he strove to lead up to converse more close, he found himself checked he knew not how; for she did not repulse, she only failed to respond. Her favourite topic to converse on was Margaret's attachment: on that she would warm even to enthusiasm, and run on at any length, till he almost felt it in his heart to grow jealous of his favourite niece.
Lettice Deane was the only one who had a clue to Rose's strangeness. She felt sorry for her and greatly surprised, blaming Roe, notwithstanding her declaration that he was nothing to her; and vowed that his conduct in hanging on at the Beach, was ungentlemanlike, and altogether abominable.
Roe himself seemed as feverish and ill at ease as the lady. He took little interest in the society of the other men, and seemed to submit to the company of Maida rather than court it. Maida felt that he was growing moody on her hands, and that their intimacy was not progressing. "Yet why did he stay on?" she asked herself. "There was no one else in the house for whom he seemed to care." She must learn to be more devoted and winning, she thought, and get over this constraint on his part, which she felt was growing up between them; but she did not see very clearly how she was to set about it. He detested forward women and bold women--he often said so--and was severely critical when they sat together on the galleries looking down on the young people upon the sands, who, after the manner of their kind, had a way of assorting themselves in couples as they took their evening strolls.