And the bee shall have his hour.
“A honeyed heart for the honey-comb
And the honey-bee flies home.
“A heavy heart in the honey-flower
And the bee has had his hour.”
“I am going to let you sit in this easy-chair by the window to watch the beautiful July sunset, and Mr. Hermann wants to come in and see you,” Miss Tuttle said, placing the chair ready and dressing her patient in a soft white wrapper.
But it was Jessie Stirling who pushed open the door and tripped in, first taking advantage of its being unlocked.
“Poor dear, how changed you look, how pale, how ill! It was a terrible shock to you to find out how Chester Olyphant had deceived you, was it not?” she twittered, loquaciously, coolly taking a chair in front of Leola, and adding:
“You may well fancy it was a shock to me, too, to find him down here flirting with you when I thought him safe on a yacht thousands of miles away. Did Miss Tuttle tell you he has gone away in a huff at being found out, and without leaving any word for me? Yes, he has gone, and at first I vowed I never would forgive him his flirtation with you, but—well, when I go back to New York perhaps I will relent, after he has coaxed long enough. We really are very fond of each other, you know, though Chester cannot help flirting any more than he can help breathing. I shall never let him know how hard you took it, for that would flatter his vanity too much!”
His vanity, dear heaven! and she had believed he loved her, thought Leola, with silent shame and despair.