"Sister!"
"Do not call me by that name, Philip Benson! You know better!"
She leaned forward on the balcony railing, her eyes fixed on the sea. Her deep, hurried breathing was like the pant of some worried animal, gathering strength, and, with it, courage for renewed conflict. To her last words the mysterious plaint of the sea lent meaning. Philip, too, remembered that barren shore, the tumbling breakers, the solitary sea-bird's labored flight landward. Was this his work? It was but a flicker of truth—dashed out the next second by a blow of indignant will.
"You may forbid me to address you by this title, Sarah; but you cannot hinder me from sympathizing with you in your sorrow, and trying to befriend you. If my companionship is unwelcome, allow me to conduct you to your room. I cannot leave you alone here, where there is continual passing."
"You are right. Regard for appearances is the one thing needful," she said, mockingly. "I must be a dull scholar if I have not learned that I am sane again now—fit to associate with other sane people. If you please, we will go to the ball-room instead of upstairs. I am not a candidate for solitary confinement yet!"
"Mrs. Hammond, I heard a gentleman inquiring anxiously for you just now!" called out a lady, in passing. "He said that you promised to dance with him."
"I did. Thank you for reminding me. A little faster, my good brother!"
She hurried him into the saloon, where they were met immediately by her would-be partner. Philip, bewildered and uneasy, watched her through the evolutions of the dance. She talked rapidly and animatedly, keeping her cavalier in a broad smile, and confirming her lately won reputation of a wit. Her eyes shone; her color was high; she was "really handsome"—as the "censure committee" had occasion to remember at a later day, when it was spoken of in a very different tone from that employed by a member of the distinguished sisterhood in addressing Mrs. Hunt on this night.
"You are a fortunate mother, my dear madam, to have two such brilliant daughters. They eclipse the girls entirely."
"I have nothing to complain of in my children, ma'am. I done—I did my best by them, and they have repaid me a thousandfold."