“Suppose I decline appearing at all in the festal scene?” said the gentleman. “I shall not be missed. I will just run down and dismiss the carriage—then, with your permission, will return and spend the evening here.”
Her cheeks looked as if they had been touched with wet vermilion, when he resumed his place near her, and the folds of the handkerchief in her hand hung more limply.
“I ought not to allow this sacrifice!” she faltered gratefully. “Because I have the vapors, I have no right to keep you within reach of the infection. It is shamefully, wickedly selfish!”
“It is no such thing!” he contradicted. “If you would know the truth, I was, myself, averse to attending this 'crush.' But for your indisposition, I should hail with unmixed pleasure the chance that releases me from the obligation to form a part of the throng. It is far more in consonance with my feelings to pass this, our last evening together, as we have spent so many others, in quiet talk at this fireside. I had not supposed it possible that I could ever feel so much at home in a hotel—a Washington caravansary especially—as I have within the last three weeks. Do you know, or have you not burdened your memory with such unimportant memoranda as the fact, that I must set my face Philadelphia-ward to-morrow?”
“I had not dreamed that the time was so near at hand—it seemed such a little while since the evening of our arrival—until I happened, last night, after you left us, to take up Mrs. Rogers' invitation-card for this evening. THEN, I recollected!”
Her listless resignation had in it something piteous, and the lever of compassion impelled him to further efforts of cheer.
“I have to thank you for all the enjoyment of my visit to this, heretofore to me, dismal city. If you should ever visit Philadelphia—as I earnestly hope you will—you must acquaint me with your whereabouts immediately upon your arrival. I should be sorry to think that our friendship is to end here and now.”
“As well here and now, as anywhere and at any time!” returned Rosa, yet more resignedly. “And the end must come, sooner or later. This was what I was saying over to myself when you came in. I am a fool—a baby—to mind it!” angrily dashing away the obtrusive brine from her mournful eyelids. “I WISH you would leave me alone for a few minutes, Mr. Chilton, until I can behave myself!”
For a second it seemed that her companion would take her at her word, so puzzled and troubled was his countenance, and he moved slightly, as about to obey the petulant behest; then sat still.
“I have found no fault in your behavior!” he said, too coolly to please Rosa's notion.