Such was his version of the story, and as I loved him I believed it willingly.
CHAPTER XII.
In his gay society the winter passed quickly. With the opening spring he departed—on business, as he said. I felt his loss, but as it was a busy time with me it did not affect me as it otherwise would have done. Many changes were being made in my seminary. I was obliged to employ workmen to add new dormitories to the great house, for pupils were crowding in from every point.
The reputation of the school was growing; I was immersed in business. Some months elapsed; I ceased to hear from Richard, almost to think of him, amid the activity of the spring term.
“Circumstances,” some say, “are the Devil,” and I almost believe that saying. While employed I was happy, my mind well balanced and energetic; but unfortunately for me, summer vacation drew near. It came finally; a sultry sun, parched earth, and scorched verdure made life in the city undesirable. My pupils fled to the country and to their homes until the fall session, and I was left alone. Even my servants were absent, all save one.
Shut up in the empty mansion alone with my own thoughts, I was growing morbidly lonesome.
It was at this unpropitious moment that Richard Bristed returned.
CHAPTER XIII.
He arranged quiet strolls to the country—little excursions here and there with himself as my sole companion—and many sweet happy days of unsullied pleasure I passed in his society.
One sultry morning, to my delight, he came in an open carriage, saying that the atmosphere was so heated he would drive me out of town to a charming little village with which he was familiar.