A Candle in the Wind by Mary Imlay Taylor

IT was with a feeling of intense bewilderment that Overton finally left the seminary. Dr. Price had refrained from any reference to Diane, but in his very caution in avoiding the subject there was something that made his visitor more eager to fathom the little dean's innocent reservations. Fanny, having fired her shot at random, had become as quiet as a mouse, scarcely responding to her father's efforts to draw her into the conversation; but there was a subtle suggestion of something important, of some tragic climax, in the very atmosphere.

Overton felt it, felt that even his efforts to shield Faunce for Diane's sake had in some mysterious way been forestalled and stultified. He was aware, too, of Fanny's watchful eyes, of her air of divination. Hitherto he had looked upon her as a mere child, and had never credited her with much perspicacity. Now he felt a sudden leaning toward her, a vague sympathy that made him look to her for help; but she gave him no help at all, and let him go at last with a limp handshake and a half-reproachful glance, which seemed, to his aroused perception, to express his own thought that his return was unfortunate and inopportune. Having apparently died, he had no business to come to life again, to the inconvenience and discomfiture of his friends.