"No, Mr. Mayhew," she said; and, although her tone was low, it was almost passionate in its earnestness. "God forbid that there should be a disease without a remedy."
He again looked at her with a peculiar expression, and then slowly turned toward his wife and daughter. Mrs. Mayhew was too preoccupied to heed him, and Sibley was just saying:
"Miss Ida, I claim you for the first waltz this evening, and only wish that it would last indefinitely."
"Pardon me for saying it to one so young and hopeful as yourself,
Miss Burton," Mr. Mayhew resumed gloomily, "but that which both
God and good-sense forbid seems the thing most sure to take place
in this world."
Although so dissimilar, deep and sad experiences made them kin, and Miss Burton found she must make an effort not to let their thoughts color their words too darkly for the time and place.
"I shall not let you destroy my faith in my old-fashioned simples," she said in tones that were lighter than her meaning. "You must not be sure that because you are so much my senior, all my complaints have been merely children's troubles. Appearances are often misleading, you know."
"Not in your case, I think, Miss Burton. I have lost faith in almost everything, and most of all in myself; but this unexpected little talk has touched me deeper than you can know, and I cannot help having faith in you."
"I will believe it," she said with a smile, "if you will give me a little of your society before you go back to the city."
He looked at her with sudden suspicion. "Do you mean what you say?"
"I do."