“I wish you could feel for me, as you do toward Elvira. How I envy her your friendship,” she said, in very low tones.
“Do you, truly?”
“Indeed I do. I would be so happy.”
“I shall try. But how can I, loving you so ardently?”
“As a proof of your love, try to be my friend—only a friend.”
“You ask of my love a suicide—to kill itself. Be it so. I shall try,” said he with a sad smile. “The request is rather novel, but perhaps it might be done. I doubt it. I suppose you will be my friend then?”
“I am that now—most sincerely,” said she, earnestly.
On leaving the conservatory, they saw Clarence coming to meet them. He joined Elvira and walked by her side.
“Thanks, Mr. Darrell. I am glad you have good sense,” said Gunther, addressing the back and broad shoulders of Clarence from the distance. Mercedes laughed and felt herself regaining her composure.
They had now been in Washington ten days, and the ladies of the party had only made one very hurried visit to the Capitol. This day Mrs. Mechlin had set apart “to devote to Congress,” she said, and it was arranged that they would go in the morning, would lunch at the Capitol, and remain part of the afternoon. A debate on the Texas Pacific Bill was expected that day, and the Mechlins, as well as Clarence and Mercedes, wished to hear it. The President of the Senate put his rooms at the service of Mrs. Mechlin and friends. Thus the ladies had a delightful time, taking a recess in the President's parlor when they liked, or strolling through the corridors, or sitting in the galleries.