Upon that the young man resumed his seat, and for the next hour the talk was all of relatives and friends in and about Cranley.
“Well, father,” Espy said at length, taking out his watch, “I have an engagement, and you look as though you needed rest; I’d better bid you good-night. Will see you again in the morning. You’ll be staying some time in the city, I suppose?”
“Yes—no; that is, I’m going for a trip into New York and Canada; leave by the early train to-morrow morning, expect to be gone two or three weeks, maybe more, and then return here to do the Exposition. It’s the first real vacation I’ve given myself since—well, before you were born, my boy, and I mean to do the thing up brown while I’m about it.”
“I hope you will, sir. I hope you won’t go back to work till thoroughly tired of play,” Espy said laughingly. “I may not wake in time to see you off in the morning, but you’ll find me here, I think, on your return to Philadelphia.”
“Yes, I trust so; but if I shouldn’t—”
“You shall hear from me; probably see me in Cranley in the fall. Good-night, father.”
“Good-night, my son. Don’t fail to keep your promises.” And shaking hands cordially, they separated.
It was late for a call at Madame Le Conte’s. Espy said so to himself as he left the hotel, yet set off upon that very errand, and not at all as if in haste to accomplish it. Truth to tell, he was half reluctant to meet Ethel, yet at the same time irresistibly drawn toward her.
“And she’s rich!” he mused, sauntering slowly along; “rich, and a great heiress, while I—ah me!—am poor as a church-mouse. How can I urge her to marry me? Wouldn’t it be like saying, ‘Be my provider,’ instead of, ‘Let me provide for you’? I am too proud for that. But why has she left me in ignorance of her circumstances? Did she fear that I would want to marry her for her money? She might have known me better. Did I find fault with her for resigning Mr. Kemper’s property? Did I want to give her up when she was poor and friendless?”