"Kitty, you are getting my hair too low; you're not thinking of what you are about."
Kitty blushed in her turn, and said nothing more, but hurried on my toilet. It was soon completed. I would thankfully have delayed it, but there was no longer anything to wait for, no longer the least excuse, and, to Kitty's inexpressible relief, I turned to leave the room. Kitty did not suspect with what a beating heart it was, though, and with what a blur before my eyes. I hardly saw the familiar objects in the hall, hardly distinguished a word in the hum of voices in the breakfast-room, as I paused an instant at the threshold. But there was no time for wavering now. I pushed open the door and entered.
There was a momentary hush on my entrance: Phil made a place for me beside him, saying:
"It is something new for you to be late. Aren't you well?"
"Dissipation doesn't agree with you, I fear," said Mrs. Churchill. "You look quite pale this morning."
"Mamma!" exclaimed Josephine, in a tone mock-confidential, just loud enough for every one to hear. "That is unkind! Surely, you remember what happens to-day!"
"Come, come, that's not fair," said Phil. "I thought you were more considerate, Joe. Let your cousin have her breakfast in peace."
"Don't let me keep everybody waiting," I said, faintly.
"Well, if you'll excuse us," exclaimed Josephine, starting up. "We have all finished." Then with a wicked look, "Mr. Viennet, you've been through your breakfast some time. Don't you want to take a farewell promenade on the piazza?"
Mr. Viennet bowed, and expressed his pleasure in rather a low voice.