CHAPTER XIII.
The following day Richard presented himself to Tredennis in the morning, looking a little disturbed, and scarcely in such excellent spirits as usual.
"Bertha and the children are going away to-morrow," he said. "And if you have no other engagement you are to come and dine with us this evening and say good-by."
"I have no other engagement," Tredennis answered. "I shall be glad to come. They are really going to Fortress Monroe to-morrow?"
Richard threw himself into a chair with a rather discontented air. "They are not going to Fortress Monroe at all," he said. "They are going to bury themselves in the mountains of Virginia. It is a queer fancy of Bertha's. I think she is making a mistake. She won't like it, really, when she tries it."
"If she needs rest," said Tredennis, "certainly the mountains of Virginia"—
"The mountains of Virginia," interrupted Richard, "were not made for Bertha. She will tire of them in a week. I wish she would not go!" he said, with the faintest possible touch of petulance.
"You will miss her very much, of course," said Tredennis.
"Oh, yes, I shall miss her. I always miss her—and I shall miss her specially just now."
"Just now?" said Tredennis.