“Don't talk like that, please,” said Darley, gravely. It is wonderful the aversion a young man has to being thanked in a case of this sort—at least, his profession of dislike. “I cannot tell you how unfortunate I regard the doctor's mandate,” said Darley after one of those awkward pauses between two young people who fancy, on a short acquaintance, that they have a tender regard for each other. “On your own account, of course, because I can understand how you feel over losing such a chance as the present ice affords; but chiefly, I am selfish enough to say, on my own behalf, because by the time you are able to skate again, even if the ice is still good, my visit will have come to an end; and I had been hoping, presumptuously enough, I know, to see you often.”
“Will it be really imperative for you to return so soon?” said Miss Charteris, working rapidly at the woolen hood on which she was engaged.
“I am afraid so,” answered Darley, with something very like a sigh. “I could not infringe on too much of Leonard's time——”
“Ah! it is not the city which calls, then?”
“No, it is not the city,” answered Darley, laughing, and being angrily conscious that he was flushing. “But Jack is such a dear good fellow, that I know he would not dream of sending me away.”
Miss Charteris' eyes were on her work, and she plied her fingers rapidly.
“Do you know Leonard very well, Miss Charteris?” continued Darley, as the girl did not venture a remark.
“Oh, yes!” The tone might have suggested that Miss Charteris was agitated; but Darley went on, radiant and sublimely ignorant.
“He is a grand fellow—the one man in the world that I would fall down and worship! I think Shakespeare must have had him in his vaticinal eye when he put those perfect words, that immortal eulogy, in the mouth of Antony: 'His life was gentle; and the elements so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and say to all the world, 'this was a man!'”
The maid came in and asked if she should light the lamps.