At two the party start, and Dolores sits up stairs, listening to the merry talk and laughter going on below. She will not so much as look out the window to see who are going. No one but herself knows just how much she wants to go; but she crushes the longing that arises in her heart; she will not give in now, she will keep her word. Uncle Dick has accepted her decision with strange quietness; the usually fussy uncle Dick had laughed softly, and, rubbing his hands together remarked,
"Well, my girl, if you choose to be left behind, it will not be uncle Dick who will force you to go anywhere against your will."
Then at the last moment, just before starting, Blondine had ran up to say good bye, and actually Blondine was laughing as if she had never regretted leaving her dear but rebellious Dolores behind.
After they had gone Dolores does some fancy work; she plays a melancholy tune on the handsome Steinway piano, and sings an absurdly sentimental little ballad. She reads a little, and passes the afternoon. After tea, in the evening, she throws a white fleecy shawl around her shoulders, and strolls down stairs and out in the garden, the sweet, flower-scented garden. The pretty stars twinkled brightly in the clear evening sky, and the fair young moon, just rising, casts a silver lustre over the whole scene. The trees bend and whisper to one another; the sound of voices comes dimly to Dolores' ears, and a strange wave of home-sickness sweeps over and almost overwhelms her. It is such a new, strange feeling that Dolores does not quite know what to do with herself. If Zoe were only here, with her bright words of cheering, if she were only here to talk, perhaps that strange lonely feeling would pass away.
"Pardon me, Miss Litchfield, but what have I ever done to offend you? Why do you avoid me? You might have gone this afternoon in perfect safety; you see I did not go."
Dolores is so surprised to find Sir Barry here at her side, her heart, in spite of her, gives a glad throb. But of course she would not acknowledge it, even to herself, that it was his presence which made it do so. Now she looks at Sir Barry with a most bewitching smile curving her pretty red lips, and Sir Barry goes down before that pretty, piquant face without a struggle.
"Why, Sir Barry, I am sure you are rather visionary. I hope, if I have hurt your feelings, you will forget, and forgive me."
Dolores gives her hand to Sir Barry with a sweet impulsive gesture not to be resisted.
"And you will not 'cut' me any more, no matter how your temper runs?"
And Dolores, with a relieved feeling at her heart, consents.