“Don’t you see that it takes the whole power of my will to hold body and soul together until I get to New York?” she demanded, in a voice husky with suffering.
“To New York!” repeated the panic-stricken girl.
“Yes—I can do no more. I cannot eat, or drink, or talk—much. I can only manage to live until I get there. Leave me.”
“Oh! Heaven of heavens, what has happened to you, Britomarte!” exclaimed Erminie, as she turned, unwillingly, to leave the stateroom.
Miss Conyers did not divulge what had upset her, but pleaded headaches for absenting herself from the table. Erminie was unable to comfort her, nor was she taken into the confidence of the sullen and solitary mourner.
In due time the Thetis landed at her pier at Washington.
And the great bustle of arrival ensued.
“My dear Miss Conyers,” said Dr. Rosenthal, “I understand from my daughter that you have positively declined making us a visit; but now, at the last moment, let me prevail with you to make us all happy by consenting to go home with us at least for a day and night, if no longer, to rest before you go farther.”
“I thank you very much—more than I can express. But it is not in my power to accept your kind invitation. Urgent business compels me immediately to go to New York. I know that a train leaves in an hour from this. And I must drive to the station instantly.”
Miss Conyers embraced Erminie, who was bathed in tears, and then turned to shake hands with Mr. Justin Rosenthal.