It was easier to talk of such a determination than to carry it out. It is not often that the singed moth succeeds in escaping from the candle, nor the bird from the serpent that allures it. And with either of these might my case be compared.
My proposal of departure was met by surprise on the part of my planter host. So abrupt! So unexpected! He would not hear of it. It would be such a disappointment to him. He had been organizing a grand hunt—the grandest we had yet had—a bear battue in the canebrakes of the Arkansas side, and all for my especial entertainment. Surely I would not disappoint him?
"You will not?" said his sister, as we were left for a moment alone.
I scarce knew what to say.
"Why do you leave us in such haste?"
Still less could I make answer to this question.
"It is very unkind of you," she continued to urge; "and not very gallant," added she, with a provoking pout. "You appear to have been contented here till I came. I shall think you are running away to avoid me."
There was truth in this, though not in the sense she intended.
I was on the eve of making reply—of reiterating my determination to depart—of telling her why I had taken it—perhaps of speaking some silly reproach.
I was prevented from making this fool of myself by a generosity I little deserved.