He spent but a few moments over his toilet, and came out dressed for dinner.
“Come, now; I am ready,” he said.
“Good-by, dear little Owlet,” said Harcourt, stooping to kiss the child.
“Oh!—but ain’t you going with us to see Lady?” inquired the little one, with a look of surprise and disappointment.
“No, dear child, I cannot do so,” sadly replied the young man.
“Oh! but indeed, indeed, you must! you must! you must!” she insisted.
“Listen to me, little one. My dear old mother is sick in bed. I did not tell you so before, because I did not wish to trouble you, but I tell you so now so that you may know why I must hurry away to see her,” said Harcourt, looking down into the earnest face of the child, whose brown eyes were lifted to his, full of sympathy.
“Oh, I am so sorry—so very sorry! I hope she will get well soon, and then you can come to see Lady and me,” she said.
“I should be very happy to do so, dear. Now you will let me go? Good-by, dear,” he said, stooping again to kiss her, and saying to himself:
“This is another final parting. Even this child I shall never see after this day.”