In the evenings they played whist, or visited the Art Loan Exhibition, which the good people of Halifax had got up for the benefit of the orphans and widows of Canadian soldiers. Or they went to the music hall to see amateur artists, officers of the garrison, and the young people of Halifax, perform in the name of the same good cause. And so each evening the four inseparables were almost invariably together.
Maud enjoyed it too, for the Major's visits would soon be over; and by judicious fencing she succeeded in parrying anything like a direct declaration again. Each night she went to bed thankful that the end had not yet come; and yet suspicious of what the future day might bring to pass.
One evening, however, fortune favored Morris. He had gotten himself up with elaborate care, for this was the last night they could devote to whist; and probably the last evening that he would be off duty, for Sir George's ship had been sighted and would be in harbor that night.
"It grieves me to disappoint you," said Maud, after the usual greeting. "My sister and Dr. Fairchilds are out driving. They expected to be back early, but a messenger has just arrived with the news that the Doctor was detained professionally on account of an accident, and it will be impossible for them to return for an hour yet."
"Ah! I am sorry for ourselves as well as the injured," said the Major, smiling. "But can we not utilize the time? Just the chance for a talk, the very thing that I have been praying the gods to grant us this long time."
"I did not know that your prayers were so earnest," she laughingly returned, as she picked up a trifle of needlework to help her thoughts run smoothly.
"Yes, and I must speak again," he continued. "We can be serious as well as jolly."
"My dear Major!" exclaimed Maud with a light laugh. "We have the jolliest talks every time we meet. Don't talk of seriousness, please."
"One cannot be merry forever," was his answer.
"Genie says we should always pursue the even tenor of our way," was her quick response. "So I propose that while I use my needle you read aloud either 'Young's Night Thoughts,' or Gray's Elegy,' as a tonic to our gaiety.