"Where are the others?" he inquired.
"Mrs. Dana is in the nursery; Carry asleep; Dr. Carleton and Arthur abroad."
"Come, walk with me!" requested he. "Any handkerchief,—a wedding mouchoir—can wait an hour."
Their course was along the brink of a deep ravine; overshadowed by large old trees; and bridged by fallen trunks. The sides were grass-grown, and at the bottom rolled the rivulet, which had fretted out the gorge; blending its complainings with the low rush of the wind through the forest.
"So one feeling often wears away the soul!" remarked Charley, reflectively. "Man is but clay after all!"
"You! the champion of your species—turning against them!" exclaimed Ida.
"No. I am still an unbeliever in the total corruption of our nature; a doctrine so opposed to reason and experience, that I will never assent to it, if it is preached at me until doomsday. But this is a miserably unsatisfactory life!"
"Yet the world says you enjoy it."
"And do you, an adept in concealment, credit a man's outward show!"