“That is,” he continued, “if the meeting we have arranged for in December does not prevent it.”
“Does she know of it?” I asked.
“No; and I would not have her to for worlds.”
“But, Ramie, there will never be a meeting,” I said, cheerily. “Brazon is too cowardly to fight; and if he were not, time would make the affair too trivial to be remembered, especially as it is safest to forget it.”
“Brazon would never have begun,” he said, “had it not been for the advice of others. Of course their purpose is to continue the affair, as they suffer no uneasiness on account of it.”
“Well, Ramie, let us look on the bright side of things. I do not believe that the affair will come off at all, and if it does it will be without danger to yourself.”
DeVare then gave me his personal history, stating that he was an only child; that his father had been dead a great many years; that his mother was perfectly devoted to him, and that this was the first session she had passed without spending most of the time at Chapel Hill or Raleigh, where he could run down to see her often.
“She will not leave New Orleans till the close of November,” he continued, “when we will together go to Richmond to spend my vacation. The thought of the terrible blow to her, if I should fall, is the only thing that makes me shrink somewhat from the meeting.”
