“Providence permitting, yes, my dear,” he replied.
She perceived no evasion in this answer. Indeed, the phrase was her own habitual formula whenever she fully intended to do any certain thing, “Providence permitting.” She took his words for consent and answered gleefully:
“That will be something to look forward to during the winter.”
Stuart smiled. Ah! how hard to keep up that cheerful countenance and light tone when his heart was so heavy and his mind so dark.
They lingered long at the tea table, because Palma was full of life and of the enjoyment of all life’s blessings, in possession and in anticipation.
When they arose at last and the table was cleared of the tea service, and the books and magazines replaced on it, Palma took her workbasket and Cleve a book, and she sewed at mending gloves, he read aloud “The Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood.”
The letter on the mantelpiece, confidently believed to be the rent bill, was not looked at, or even thought of. There it lay, and was fated to lay, until Monday morning.
The young pair retired at their usual hour; but only Palma slept. The vulture of anxiety, gnawing at his heart, kept Stuart wide awake.
Sunday dawned clear, bright and beautiful.
The young couple arose and breakfasted and went to church.