But here Wemyss took the word from her. “Mrs. Gower has only come on for the bachelors’ ball, to-morrow night,” said he. As he spoke, Flossie looked at him, amazed, as if about to speak; then pressed her lips together scornfully. Clarendon had been congratulating himself on his success so far; but now he seemed to meet with difficulties. For Mrs. Gower became obstinately silent; she turned her face to the window, though it was little better than a slaty square, and looked obstinately out of it. Wemyss made no offer to give up his seat, and answered mostly by unflattering interjections.
When Clarendon had gone, Mrs. Gower continued silent. He watched her for some minutes; then he ventured a remark. “That little Clarendon is the greatest gossip in Boston.”
Flossie made no reply; and there was silence between them until the train reached Boston. Justine made a motion to go, as if to prepare herself for the arrival; but Mrs. Gower bade her stay. “We are here, dearest, at last,” said Wemyss, taking her hand; but Mrs. Gower withdrew it without a word.
They alighted, and Wemyss looked about him; the electric light made the faces of a welcoming crowd terribly distinct; but he was inexpressibly relieved to find no familiar face among them.
He engaged the first carriage that he found, and put Flossie into it with the maid; and then went in search of her travelling trunks. The coachman put them on; and Wemyss began to tell him the hotel.
“I have already told him where to go,” said Flossie. “I have decided to stay for the bachelors’ ball.” She shut the door; and before Wemyss could find his speech, the carriage had driven rapidly off and left him standing there, alone, in the Boston railway station.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
FLOSSIE DECLINES.
FLOSSIE had given the driver the address of her only cousin she remembered; a certain Mrs. Lyman, whose husband she believed was some instructor or professor at some college, she could not remember where. They had sent her cards upon their wedding; but Flossie had never been near them in her previous trips to Boston. She had an idea they might be poor; and did not wish to trouble them; and after all, what could there be between her life and theirs?
So she had some qualms of social conscience when the carriage stopped at the little brick house; the first time, perhaps, in twenty years, that she felt the slightest doubt as to her reception. But she was determined that she would go to no hotel, where Wemyss might find her.