The dimple deepened. "When Columbus found America," she answered, "it is said that the savages looked up and remarked to him, 'Ah, we see we are discovered!'"
"Yes," said I, "you are fully discovered—each of you—all of you, all three or four of you, Miss Ellen Meriwether."
"But you did not know it until now—until this very moment. You did not know me—could not remember me—not even when the masks were off! Ah, it was good as a play!"
"I have done nothing else but remember you."
"How much I should value your acquaintance, Mr. Cowles of Virginia! How rare an opportunity you have given me of seeing on the inside of a man's heart." She spoke half bitterly, and I saw that in one way or other she meant revenge.
"I do not understand you," I rejoined.
"No, I suppose you men are all alike—that any one of you would do the same. It is only the last girl, the nearest girl, that is remembered. Is it not so?"
"It is not so," I answered.
"How long will you remember me this time—me or my clothes, Mr. Cowles? Until you meet another?"
"All my life," I said; "and until I meet you again, in some other infinite variety. Each last time that I see you makes me forget all the others; but never once have I forgotten you."