"That will be all over when I am at Woodburn."
"I wish your father would come and settle in London; it would be pleasant and useful for you to have some English friends."
"It is more likely my father would settle in America."
"Then I should never see you!"
The words had passed his lips before he could restrain them, and he watched their effect keenly.
"I suppose not," very quietly. "I should be sorry, and my father would be very sorry."
Glynn felt unreasonably irritated. Was this young, slight, inexperienced girl stronger than himself, that the tone in which he was conscious his words were uttered should in no way move her? He was dimly aware of a change in her manner, so delicate as to be indefinable; it was not less friendly, but more collected, as if she thought before she spoke.
But Antoinette, approaching with an elderly cousin of her fiancé, who had requested an introduction to the belle Américaine, put an end to their conversation, and not long after Elsie went away.
The days which intervened between Lambert's sudden journey to Dunkerque and the ball went rapidly—too rapidly. Glynn dined twice in the Rue de L'Evêque. Lambert was grave, but less dejected than previously. He had the air of a man who had escaped from a period of indecision, and had thoroughly made up his mind. Glynn, on the contrary, sank deeper and deeper into the quicksands of irresolution, and felt each day more vividly how strong an effort it would cost him to tear himself away; how impossible it seemed to leave Elsie to the chances of undefined danger, none the less formidable because it was impalpable.
It was with an unaccountable impression that something important, something decisive would occur before the evening was over. Glynn dressed and dined, taking care to be in the ball-room and near the door in good time, in order to claim Elsie's promise of the first dance on her arrival. Madame Davilliers and her party were rather late, and, to Glynn's annoyance, she entered the room leaning on Vincent's arm. Mademoiselle followed, conducted by the Vicomte, and finally Elsie, leaning on M. Davilliers—Elsie in her first ball-dress, a delicious combination of white silk and tulle and lace, with sprays of wild roses, long grass, and foliage, a delicate wreath of the same flowers in her hair, and a simple necklace of shimmering Venetian shells round her throat. She looked a little shy, a little self-conscious, less composed than usual, and when she distinguished Glynn's tall figure, and met his dark, eager, admiring eyes, she colored suddenly, looking away with a smile so sweet, so glad, that Glynn's heart gave a quick bound, and throbbed with a triumphant sense of victory, after which reason gave up the struggle and resigned herself to defeat.