Yet I was grateful for the interest he manifested in me.

I had no vindictive remembrance of the poem he had so ruthlessly murdered.

Innumerable acts of after kindness had obliterated the impression, or rather covered it with a growth of pleasant memories.
"Have you given up entirely the idea of being a teacher yourself ?" he asked, in a low voice, "or has the kindness of friends rendered it superfluous?
I do not ask from curiosity out a deep interest in your future welfare." This was a startling question.

I had not thought of the subject since I had entered my new home.

Why should I think of the drudgery of life, pillowed on the downy couch of luxury and ease?
I was forgetting that I was but the recipient of another's bounty,--a guest, but not a child of the household.
Low as was his voice, I knew Mrs.Linwood heard and understood him, for her eyes rested on me with a peculiar expression of anxiety and interest.