Paul eagerly tore it open and devoured its contents:
“Dear Friend:—Papa has suddenly decided that Newport is ‘tame,’ and longs for Saratoga. We are to leave on the twelve-o’clock boat, and do not know when we shall return. I shall not soon forget the days you have made so pleasant for me, nor the great good your cheerful society has done me. I would rather stay than go, but think it best to yield to papa’s wishes. I hoped to see you before we left, but suppose you were engaged. Please give my kind remembrances to Madam Sylvester. Au revoir.
Editha.”
“What in the name of Jupiter can have made him take this sudden start?” Paul Tressalia muttered, with a clouded brow, as with a terrible feeling of loneliness he sought his own rooms. “Can anything have transpired to upset his equilibrium?” he continued. “It must have been a very sudden start, for I do not believe he contemplated any such thing yesterday morning.”
He sat a long time thinking the matter over, and longing to follow them immediately.
He knew Editha would miss his care and attention, while as for him, it seemed as if the sun had suddenly been put out of existence.
Mr. Dalton had not treated him with his usual politeness this summer, and he was not sure but that he had done this purposely, in order to remove Editha from his society, and, if that was the case, he doubted the propriety of going after them.
These reflections were interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who brought him a card.
It proved to be that of Madam Sylvester, and he immediately went down to the reception-room, taking with him the note Editha had written.
“Why that brow of gloom, my friend? You look as if you had met with some sudden and great disappointment,” madam said, playfully, after they had exchanged greetings.