I

felt rather sorry for Mrs. Corning, on reading her diary entry about the green-house assignation, knowing that all her hoping for the best would prove to be for naught. Mind you, as a man of God I did not condone what she did, but I don't believe that she was entirely at fault. Mr. Acton was aware of her feelings for him, and knows, I'm sure, that a woman in love is very easily taken advantage of. I also happened to know that Mr. Acton was not nearly as innocent of the delights of the fairer sex as he would have me believe: I have it on good authority that he was seen leaving a house of ill-repute in South Bank. But to continue his narrative:

I avoided Betsy for an entire week after the green-house incident and might have done so even longer, but she sent her servant John to my house with an invitation to tea. I accepted. I confess that I wanted to patch things up in part because I very much desired to see how the green-house was progressing, as work had not halted during the week I was away, and I could see little changes here and there as I passed by on the lane on my daily morning walks to the post-office.

When I was shown into Betsy's little parlor she stood up to greet me, rather formally shaking my hand. I could see that she wanted to be calm and steady, but she is - was - a woman of strong emotions and I never saw her entirely contain herself - she would have made a dreadful partner in most card games, I expect. And so, on taking my hand she broke into a smile and her eyes shone with delight and she exclaimed: "Dearest Oliver, I have missed you so very much!"

As you can imagine, I had set out for tea with the expectation that things between us might be awkward, and I had wondered if I should offer an apology for what had happened, but her happiness in seeing me was quite contagious and soon we were babbling on easily, as usual, about the green-house and architecture and herbiculture. However I could not help but think now and then of where my hand had been on her person. And I noticed that Betsy wore the very same dress as she had during The Incident, although she had augmented her appearance with several gold bracelets, as well as a pendant that stopped just at the top of the scooping neckline of the muslin gown. When she moved just so the pendant would become wedged into the narrow valley, if you take my meaning, and so I found my eyes, in moments of carelessness, drawn to that place. It was apparent that she was as much aware of what had happened as I, and that things were not the same as before, however easily our conversation flowed. But I decided that I would not mention it: if she wanted to discuss The Incident she would have to broach the topic herself.

(To be continued...)