Mrs. Burt was very much occupied with something near the table, and Frederic did not notice her confusion as he replied, “He was a kind-hearted man, I thought, but I wonder how he heard of my illness, and where he is now. Mrs. Merton, has a certain Ben Butterworth inquired for me since I was sick?”
“I know nobody by that name,” returned Mrs. Burt, and without stopping to think that her question might lead to some inquiries from Frederic, Isabel rejoined, “Well, do you know a Mrs. Daniel Burt?”
“Mrs. Daniel Burt!” repeated Frederic, as if trying to recall something far back in the past, while the lady in question started so suddenly as to drop the cup of hot water she held in her hand.
Stooping down to pick up the cup, she said something about its having burned her, and added, “I ain’t much acquainted in the city, and never know my next door neighbors.”
“Mrs. Daniel Burt,” Frederic said again, “I have surely heard that name before. Who is she, Isabel?”
It was Isabel’s turn now to answer evasively; but being more accustomed to dissimulate than her companion, she replied, quite as a matter of course, “You may have heard mother speak of her in New Haven. I used to know her when I was a little girl, and I believe she lives in New York. She was a very good, but common kind of woman, and one with whom I should not care to associate, though mother, I dare say, would be glad to hear from her.”
“The impudent trollop,” muttered Mrs. Burt, marvelling at the conversation, and wondering which was trying to deceive the other, Frederic or Isabel. “The former couldn’t hoodwink her,” she said, “even if he did Isabel. She understood it all, and he knew who Mrs. Daniel Burt was just as well as she did, for even if he had forgotten that she once lived with his father, Marian’s letter had refreshed his memory, and he was only ‘putting on’ for the sake of misleading Isabel. But where in the world did that jade know her!” that was a puzzle, and settling it in her own mind that there were two of the same name, she left the room and went down to her breakfast.
During the day not a word was said of Marian. Isabel was evidently too much pleased with Frederic’s delight at seeing her to think of anything else, while Mrs. Burt did not consider it necessary to speak of her. Frederic, too, for a time had forgotten her, but as the day drew near its close, he relapsed into a thoughtful mood, replying to Isabel’s frequent remarks either in monosyllables or not at all. As the darkness increased he seemed to be listening intently, and when a step was heard upon the stairs or in the hall without, his face would light up with eager expectation and then be as suddenly overcast as the footstep passed his door. Gradually there was creeping into his mind a vague remembrance of something or somebody, which for many days had been there with him, gliding so noiselessly about the room that he had almost fancied it trod upon the air, and he could scarcely tell whether it were a spirit or a human being like himself. Little by little the outline so dimly discerned assumed a form, and the form was that of a young girl—a very fair young girl, with sweet blue eyes, and soft, baby hands, which had held his aching head and smoothed his tangled hair, oh, so many times. Her voice too, was low and gentle, and reminding him of some sad strain of music heard long, long ago. It seemed to him, too, that she called him Frederic, dropping hot tears upon his face. But where was she now? Why didn’t she come again, and who was she—that little blue-eyed girl? For a time the vision faded and all was confused again, but the reality came back ere long, and listening eagerly for something which never came, he thought and thought until great drops of sweat stood thickly upon his brow; and Isabel, wiping them away, became alarmed at the wildness of his eye and the rapid beating of his pulse. A powerful anodyne was administered, and he slept at last a fitful feverish sleep, which however, did him good, and in the morning he was better than he had been before.
Mrs. Burt, who had watched him carefully, knew that the danger was past, and that afternoon she left him with Isabel, while she went home, where she found Marian seriously ill, with Ben taking care of her in his kind but awkward manner.
“Did Frederic remember me? Does he know I have been there?” were Marian’s first questions, and when Mrs. Burt replied in the negative, she turned away whispering, mournfully, “It is just as well.”