The next day Theodore returned to his studies; but different from his former visits to Alida, instead of exhilarating his spirits, this had tended to depress them. He doubted whether she was not already engaged to Bonville. His hopes would persuade him this was not the case; but his fears declared otherwise.
It was some time before he renewed his visits again. In the interim he received a letter from a friend in the neighbourhood of Alida’s father; an extract from which follows: “We are soon to have a wedding here; you are acquainted with the parties—Alida M. and Bonville. Such at least is our opinion from appearances, as this gentleman is now there more than half his time. You will undoubtedly be invited. We had expected that you would have put in your claims, from your particular attention to the lady. She is a fine girl, Theodore.” I shall never be a guest at Alida’s wedding, said Theodore, as he hastily paced the room; but I must again see her before that event takes place, when I shall lose her forever.
The ensuing day he repaired to her father’s. He inquired for Alida; she was gone with a party to the shores of the sound, attended by Bonville. At evening they returned. Bonville and Theodore addressed each other with much seeming cordiality. “You have deserted us, Theodore,” said Alida, “we concluded you had forgotten the road to this place.” “Was not that a hasty conclusion?” said Theodore. “I think not,” she answered, “if your long absence should be construed into neglect. But we will hear your excuse,” said she, smiling, “by and by, and perhaps pardon you.”
He thanked her for her condescension.
The next morning Bonville set out to go to New-York. Theodore observed that he took particular leave of Alida, telling her, in a low voice, that he should have the happiness of seeing her again, within two or three weeks certainly.
After he was gone, as Alida and Theodore were sitting in the room alone, “Well,” said she, “am I to hear your excuses, Theodore?” “For what, madam?” “For neglecting your friends.” “I hope it is not so considered, madam.” “Seriously, then, why have you stayed away so long? Has this place no charms in the absence of my brother?”
“Would my presence have added to your felicity, Alida?” “You never came an unwelcome visiter here.” “Perhaps I might be sometimes intrusive when Bonville is your guest.” “I have supposed you were on friendly terms,” said she. “We are, but there are seasons when friendship must yield its pretensions to a superior claim.”
“Will you answer me one question, Alida, are you engaged to Bonville?” “He has asked me the same question concerning you,” replied she, (blushing.)
“Do you,” continued Theodore, “prefer him to any other?” Alida, (blushing deeply.) “He has made the same inquiries respecting you.”
“I beg, madam, you will deal with me candidly,” said Theodore, (taking her hand with anxiety.) “I am entitled to no claims, but you know what my heart would ask. I will bow to your decision. Bonville or Theodore must relinquish their pretensions. We cannot share the blessing.”