observed that before doing so she had received a good deal of information about Morris Townsend. "Please say no more; please don't follow up that subject."
"Doesn't it interest you?" asked Mrs. Penniman, with a certain timorous archness.
"It pains me," said Catherine.
"I was afraid you would say that. But don't you think you could get used to it? He wants so much to see you."
"Please don't, Aunt Lavinia," said Catherine, getting up from her seat. She moved quickly away, and went to the other window, which stood open to the balcony; and here, in the embrasure, concealed from her aunt by the white curtains, she remained a long time, looking out into the warm darkness. She had had a great shock; it was as if the gulf of the past had suddenly opened, and a spectral figure had risen out of it. There were some things she believed she had got over, some feelings that she had thought of as dead; but apparently there was a certain vitality in them still. Mrs. Penniman had made them stir themselves. It was but a momentary agitation, Catherine said
