How strange it seemed to Pansy to be going again, after the lapse of more than three years, to the Capitol Square to meet one whom she loved, but whom she must see in secret because a cruel fate kept them sundered in life, but one in heart. Then it was the father—now it was the child.
While she was wondering how she was to get away from the lynx eyes of her husband’s niece, Juliette came in to say that she would like to have the phaëton for her own use that afternoon, if Mrs. Falconer was not going out.
“One of my dearest friends, Miss Norwood, is just home from a long visit in New York, and I would like so much to take her for a drive,” she said.
“Pray do so. I shall not need the phaëton this afternoon,” Pansy answered eagerly.
“You are not going out yourself?” Juliette asked.
“I don’t know. Should I do so, it will only be for a short walk.”
Juliette thanked her and hastened away.
“Colonel Falconer is busy with his lawyer, Juliette away, and the field clear. I will go and see my child,” she thought gladly.
It was July, and the day was warm and sultry. Pansy dressed herself simply, in a plain white dress and leghorn hat, and, taking a large sun-shade in her hand, started for the Capitol Square.
Her heart throbbed painfully as she walked slowly along the old familiar streets, thinking of those past days, so full of love and pain.