Hattie was a good listener. She never interrupted Lizzie’s narrative with a single question. And a real good listener is a “rarity,” as Mr. Barnum said when he found the “What is it.”
“Now you will think it over, will you not, if Aunt Louisa proposes that you shall be her daughter, as I know she will?” said Lizzie, stealing her arm coaxingly about Hattie’s waist. “Don’t say no, dear—at least not at once. For her sake soften a refusal, if it must come.”
“I will do everything I can in honor and justice to myself to make your good, dear aunt happy,” said Hattie.
“You darling! I knew you would!”
And Lizzie, caring not a jot that they were driving up the Fifth avenue, passing and meeting occupied carriages all the time, kissed Hattie over and over again.
And poor Frank sat there and saw their red lips meet, and he wished he could be Lizzie, if only for a minute.
But the sweetest moments must have their end. The carriage drew up before the Legare mansion, and its occupants were soon within its stately walls.
Mr. Legare met them at the door.
“This kindness is truly gratifying, Miss Butler,” said he to our heroine. “My sister is yet quite nervous, but the doctor is confident your visit will be a benefit to her. She is anxious to see you. I left her but a moment ago, and she sent me from her chamber to see if you had come. She wishes to see you alone for a little while. I can almost guess the cause of this wish, but I will not anticipate it to you.”
Then, as soon as Lizzie had taken her bonnet and shawl, Hattie went to the chamber of Mrs. Emory.