She had no heart for gayety, and she was really happier just now there at Newport—notwithstanding her assertion to Mr. Tressalia that she did not enjoy Newport—than she had ever hoped to be again.
“No, indeed,” he returned, quickly and decidedly. “I could not think of leaving you alone while you are so delicate; and besides, I cannot spare you, Editha—you and I are rather alone in this busy world.”
She looked up in surprise at him at this unusual remark. It was a very rare occurrence for him to address her in such an affectionate manner.
It almost seemed to her, with the distrust she had lately had of him, that there was some sinister motive prompting this sudden change; but she stifled the feeling, and answered:
“Very well, I will go to Saratoga if you like. When do you wish to start?”
“To-morrow, if you can arrange it,” Mr. Dalton replied, the cloud lifting from his face.
“Yes, I can arrange it;” but she sighed as she said it, for she was really beginning to wake up to a little life, and she dreaded any change.
She had been so calmly content since she had come to a definite understanding with Mr. Tressalia, and she wondered, with a feeling of sadness stealing over her, what she should do without her tireless friend.
She had grown to depend upon him for amusement; besides, he heard regularly from Earle, and though she did not dare acknowledge it even to her own heart, yet those letters from over the sea were the great events of the week to her.
She was sorry to go away without becoming more intimately acquainted with Madam Sylvester, for she had been strangely drawn toward her, thinking almost constantly of her and her charming ways ever since her introduction to her. All during the evening she kept hoping that Mr. Tressalia would drop in, that she might tell him of the change in their plans, half wishing that he would join himself to their party and accompany them.