Anne Douglas Sedgwick

“ It 's absolutely a case of suggestion. Take hold of yourself; conquer it. The whole world will change to you if you will stop being afraid." Yet, as he spoke, his voice choked, for those eyes still looked—looked at him.
"I am not afraid when I am alone. Won't you leave me?"
What could love do when such terror met it, and when such terror was its home? It was like a flower rooted in a quicksand and shaken by a whirlwind. It lived, but it quaked from root to chalice; it lay upon the ground. Maverley turned from her. ”

“ Miss Goldworthy laughed on a sofa with her suitor, and talk flowed happily when Madeline Tristram entered. The girl, again in white, but an unrelieved white hardly distinguishable in the dusk from her arms and neck, gave Maverley the strangest impression of solitude as she walked down the long room, smiling calmly and steadily, but not as though she smiled at anybody. She was, indeed, extraordinarily beautiful, and that perhaps explained the sudden hush that greeted her. People naturally turned to look, and, naturally no doubt, stopped talking for a moment. ”

“ If she is unconscious I might make her conscious, and that would be lamentable. But I can't think her really unhappy; a person so active can hardly be unhappy. She is always doing something. She never broods. If she were unhappy she would n't seem so uncanny. It 's her not seeing, not caring, that is part of her dreadfulness—her not feeling any of it."
"Ah! But does n't she?" broke again from Maverley.
Mrs. Graham, tapping her fingers on the table, watched their rapid rhythm. ”

“ Parflew, the rector's wife, he could see Miss Tristram far down the table. It was the dull boy who sat beside her, and he seemed to talk easily enough to her, while she turned to him the unvarying assent of her smile. Maverley imagined, as he watched, that the youth must be very dull, very self-centered, to talk so easily. Mrs. Parflew noticed his wandering attention, and her eyes followed his. She dropped her voice a little to say, "That 's an odd girl, don't you think?" ”

“ Maverley had finished his tea and was leaning back in his deep chintz chair, his hands clasped behind his head.
"You are thinner and browner, but nicer than ever," said Mrs. Graham. "I like the pointed beard, Vivian; it makes you look diplomatic—an excellent impression for such impulsive warm-heartedness as yours to give; it must keep people off a little more."
"I like them on, you know. Of the people coming and going, Constance, who was the extraordinary young lady who was sitting here when I came in?" ”

“ She was probably picking flowers for the house."
"There 's not a white flower in the house," cried Sir Archie. "I looked—on purpose. But it 's not anything she does," he added; "it 's she herself. It 's her eyes and her not speaking. I deserve a kicking for it, but I actually hate that inoffensive girl—actually hate her. I 'm going to bolt."
Dislike, horror, hatred—Maverley pondered the crescendo when Sir Archie left him in the garden. He alone, apparently, felt pity—that wild, heart-wringing pang and thrill of pity. ”

“ This mystery interests me."
"Ah, that 's it, you see; she is a mystery. One can hardly describe it. She never wants to be near people. She wants to help them, apparently; but it must be indirectly—at a distance from them." ”

“ Parflew's intelligent countenance; but he was sorry that it was not, distinctly sorry that Madeline Tristram stirred even this cheerful and obvious lady to surmise. He took refuge in the subterfuge of the afternoon. "She is extraordinarily beautiful."
"Yes, isn't she?" said Mrs. Parflew, good-humoredly willing to accept the evasion. She added, however: "She never talks; it 's so odd."
"Never?" Maverley could not control the startled quality of his voice.
"Well, I have heard her speak. I mean that it 's quite noticeable—her not speaking. She is a nice, good girl," Mrs. Parflew went on ”

“ Graham. And she went on after a slight pause: "She is a very clever girl, and, above all, a very good girl. She is always working at some dull drudgery for some dull committee. I almost resent her youth and beauty being dedicated to all the more thankless tasks of our modern highly organized charities; but she seems to like it."
"She is certainly wonderfully beautiful," Maverley repeated.
He did not see Miss Tristram again until dinner-time; and then, as she was the last to come in, he saw first the group in which Mrs. Graham had placed her,—three of the four girls: Gladys ”

“ There are four in the house, including my own Gladys, whom you remember."
"She was tall and slender, and black and white, with very large, wide-opened eyes."
"Oh—my niece. You remember poor Hugh died two years ago. This is his girl, Madeline Tristram. I 've taken her to live with me. Her mother's people, who had her at first, did n't make her happy; they are of the merely fashionable type, and Madeline does n't care much about going out. She has been with me for a year. But why extraordinary?" Mrs. Graham added.
Maverley felt in the question an unconscious reproof of the absurd mood. ”