"I must go to the Mediterranean"; poor Sheridan continued, putting his hand to his chest, and coughing.
"To die!" thought I, as I looked on his sunk, but still very expressive, dark eyes.
"Then God bless you!" said I, first kissing his hand, and then, though somewhat timidly, leaning my face towards him. He parted my hair, and kissed my forehead, my eyes, and my lips.
"If I do come back," said he, forcing a languid smile, "mind let me find you married, and rich enough to lend me an occasional hundred pounds or two." He then kissed his hand gracefully, and was out of sight in an instant.
I never saw him again!
[CHAPTER II]
The next morning my maid brought me a little note from Argyle to say that he had been waiting about my door an hour, having learned my address from poor Sheridan, and that, seeing the servant in the street, he could not help making an attempt to induce me to go out and walk with him. I looked out of window, saw Argyle, ran for my hat and cloak, and joined him in an instant.
"Am I forgiven?" said Argyle with gentle eagerness.