“I see you had almost forgotten me, Mr. Beresford.”
“Not so; but I was not expecting to meet you here—although I remember now you told me when we parted that you were coming to Mount Vernon.”
“Yes; I have been here ever since, and am just now leaving. In fact, my cab is waiting for me at the door.”
“Shall we not meet you in New York on our return?”
“Perhaps so. I have not forgotten your invitation, but I have felt too depressed to leave here before. The truth is, I came here expecting to see some dear—friends. But I have had a great shock. I found them dead.”
There was a note of pain in his voice, and Alva’s heart throbbed with a strange sympathy, he seemed so grave, so sad.
He resumed, after a moment, wearily:
“I feel so unsettled, I scarcely know what to do. My first impulse was to return to England, but I have been lingering on here till now, so I suppose I shall do America before I go home. My present plan is to go to Newport at the pressing invitation of some Americans I met last spring in London.”
“We, too, go to Newport as soon as my business here is concluded; so we may meet again soon,” exclaimed St. George, with real pleasure.
“I am glad of that—so it is au revoir, and not good-bye,” smiled the Englishman, lifting his hat in farewell ere he turned and descended the steps to the waiting carriage.