"Yes, the Governor's ball."
It was in vain that she pleaded the suddenness of the invitation, her want of preparation, and the great fatigue which she had just undergone. Roderick would admit no excuse. His manner was nervous, excited, and at times almost peremptory.
"And my father?" she urged as a last argument.
"I saw your father last night. He complained of being unwell and evidently cannot come."
The slight emphasis which Roderick, in his rapid utterance, placed on the word "cannot" was not lost on his sensitive companion. She looked up at him with a timorous air.
"And what if my father will not let me go?" she asked almost in a whisper.
"Oh, but he will. He must, Pauline."
Her eyes were raised to his again, and he met them frankly.
"Let me be plain with you, my dear. If you will not go to the ball for my sake, you must go for your father's sake. Do you understand?"
She did understand, though for a few moments she had no words to utter. After advancing a few steps, she took her hand out of her muff, laid it in that of Hardinge, and without raising her eyes, murmured: