A strangely solemn expression drifted over her countenance, but at that moment a tall form darkened the doorway, and she smiled.
"Come in, General Laurance. Punctuality is essentially an American virtue, rarely displayed in this dolce far niente land; and you exemplify its nationality. Five was the hour you named, and my little Swiss tell-tale is even now sounding the last stroke."
She did not rise, seemed on the contrary, to sink farther back in her velvet-lined chair; and bending down General Laurance touched her hand.
"When a man's happiness for all time is at stake does he loiter on his way to receive the verdict? Surely you will——"
He paused and glanced significantly at the figure whose white cap was bowed low, as its wearer slumbered over the interminable crochet.
"May not this interview at least be sacred from the presence of your keepers?"
"Poor dear soul, she is happily oblivious, and will take no stenographic notes. I would as soon declare war against my own shadow as order her away."
Evidently chagrined, the visitor stood irresolute, and meanwhile the gaze of his companion wandered back to the beauty of the Bay.
He drew a chair close to that which she occupied, and holding his hat as a screen, should Mrs. Waul's spectacles chance to turn in that direction, spoke earnestly.
"Have I been unpardonably presumptuous in interpreting favourably this permission to see you once more? Have you done me the honour to ponder the contents of my letter?"