"Oh, St. Leon, what did the cablegram say?" she aspirated, eagerly.
"That she is very ill, dear, but that did not necessarily imply a fatal sickness," he answered, soothingly.
She caught at the words with the eagerness of desperation.
"Oh, St. Leon, why need we go home at all then?"
"Beatrix!"
He did not know himself how coldly he put her from him, how sharp and rebuking his tone sounded. He was hurt and amazed. It seemed to him that he could not have understood her aright. He looked at the beautiful form drooping before him humbly, and he saw that he had frightened her by his sudden harshness. Her lips were trembling with fear.
"Beatrix," he said, "perhaps I have not understood you aright. Did you really express a desire not to go home?"
She looked at the dark, handsome face with the touch of sternness upon it and her heart sunk within her.
"I thought—I thought"—she faltered, "that—if Mrs. Le Roy were not so very ill, we need not—perhaps—go home just yet. Oh, forgive me, St. Leon. I did not mean to be selfish. I love the Old World so well I cannot bear the thought of going back to America!"