It was a sad discovery to her.

Hitherto Godfrey, and especially of late, had been the chief source of the peace and interest of her life, that portion of her life, namely, to which all the rest of it looked as its sky, its overhanging betterness--and now she felt before him like a culprit: she had done what he might be displeased with.

Nay, would that were all! for she felt like a hypocrite: she had done that which she could not confess.

Again and again, while Godfrey was away, she had flattered herself that the help the objectionable Tom had given her with her task would at once recommend him to Godfrey's favorable regard; but now that she looked in Godfrey's face, she was aware--she did not know why, but she was aware it would not be so.

Besides, she plainly saw that the same fact would, almost of necessity, lead him to imagine there had been much more between them than was the case; and she argued with herself, that, now there was nothing, now that everything was over, it would be a pity if, because of what she could not help, and what would never be again, there should arise anything, however small, of a misunderstanding between her cousin Godfrey and her.
The moment Godfrey saw her, he knew that something was the matter; but there had been that going on in him which put him on a false track for the explanation.