“At no particular time; but often you gave her the impression that you have a high temper, and she told me, ‘If I loved Mr. Darrell better than my life, I wouldn't marry him, for I could never be happy with a man of a violent temper.’ Then she spoke, too, of her being a Roman Catholic and you a Protestant.”
“But you are a Catholic and uncle is Protestant.”
“Certainly, I think the barrier is not insuperable.”
“So, my temper frightened her! It is awful!” He mused in silence for a few minutes and then left the room.
About an hour after, he returned dressed for traveling, carrying a satchel in one hand and a tin box under his arm. He put the box on the table, saying:
“Aunt Newton, I am going away for a few days. Please take care of this box until I return or you hear from me. Good-by!” and he hurried away, for he had only barely time to catch the train going to New York.
Darrell was in New York for a few hours. He bought a finer suit of clothes, a very elegant light overcoat, hat and boots, and gloves to match, and thus equipped so elegantly that he hardly recognized himself, as he surveyed his figure in a large mirror of the furnishing store, where he was so metamorphosed, he took the night train for Washington.
It was early on a Sunday morning that Darrell arrived at Washington. He went to a hotel, entered his name, took a room, a bath and a breakfast, and then called a hack to go in search of Mary. He knew that was not an hour for calling, but he had business with Mary. His was no friendly visit; it was a matter of life and death with him.
He rang the bell, and presently he heard Tisha's flapping steps coming. “Lud a massa!” she exclaimed, stepping back. But recovering herself, said with true heartiness—
“Come in the parlor, please. It is true glad Miss Mary will be to see ye.”