“Yes, it is strange. He was a fine-appearing old gentleman. I trust that he has recovered from the effects of his exposure at sea.”
“Not entirely, and I fear he never will,” Star answered, with a sigh. “His health is not very good, and his eyes trouble him exceedingly at times. They were injured by the reflection of the glaring sun in the water while we were in that open boat. We are excellent friends, and he watches anxiously for my return every day.”
“Do you come to New York every day?” her companion questioned.
“Yes; I am attending a seminary in Brooklyn, and for the present go back and forth every day. But see,” she added, pointing to the clock; “there is only one minute more, and I must find a seat.”
He assisted her to enter and conducted her to a seat; then, extending his hand, he said, smiling:
“If you come to the city every day, I shall hope to see you again.”
The ever ready color leaped to her cheeks again, more at the look he gave her than at his words.
She was upon the point of giving him her address and asking him to come out to Yonkers to see her and Mr. Rosevelt, but the train started, and she was obliged to leave her invitation unspoken.
He had only time to lift his hat, dart away and leap upon the platform, before the train was under way.
Archibald Sherbrooke not only hoped to see her again, he did see her many times after that, for he contrived to be at the station on some pretext or other, or overtake her on the way thither, every day for nearly a week, and he was always greeted with a glad look and smile. Every day she grew more beautiful in his sight; every day his eyes told her so, and these chance (?) meetings grew very sweet to them both.