She had borne it more calmly than he had expected. The bright cheeks grew pale, and the lashes drooped to hide the sadness in the dark eyes, but she said, eagerly:
"There is something you can do for me—now. I have a favor to ask of you."
"You have only to name it," he replied, gallantly; and she began to tell him that she was tired of her life in this quiet seaport town of Virginia.
She was rich, and she longed to live in the city and mix with its gayeties, that she might forget the sorrows she had borne here.
"You live in Boston; you have a mother and sister," she said. "Would it be wrong for me to come to Boston to live? Would it be too much to ask your family to present me in society?"
He was surprised and secretly annoyed. He saw her drift in a moment. She did not mean to lose sight of him. Her love was stronger than he had thought.
He did not answer her for a moment, from sheer surprise, and she continued:
"I have a most excellent lady for a companion, as you know. I should like to buy a handsome house in your city, and set up housekeeping with Mrs. Wellings as my chaperon and companion. There would be nothing imprudent in that, I suppose?"
He was obliged to own that, as far as he knew, such a proceeding would be quite proper.