“Will, I shall certainly be jealous of my own child if you go on like this,” his wife had said in playful reproof, but secretly startled to see him so completely unnerved.
“But, dear,” he had smilingly returned, and making an effort at self-control, “life would be a blank to me without either of you.”
But, even as he said it, he had hugged his child convulsively to his breast, and the almost involuntary act was more significant than words.
But as time passed the horror of that experience wore off, life resumed its rosy hue, and seemed to promise only harmonious conditions for the future, with his wealth and position assured as he firmly believed, and thus he flourished, spent his money with lavish hand, lived only in the present, and—worshiped his idols.
They had been in Saratoga only a short time when business of an urgent nature demanded Mr. Temple’s presence in New York City. He was quite disturbed by the call, and tried to persuade his wife to take Minnie and her nurse and accompany him, even though he was going to be gone only a couple of days at the longest.
Mrs. Temple regarded him with astonishment at the request.
“Positively, Will, I cannot,” she objected. “You know the ball at Congress Hall—the finest affair of the season, I am told it will be—is to come off Thursday night, and if I should go with you and try to get back for that I should be fagged out; besides, you know, there is some change which must be made in my costume before I can wear it, and the dressmaker is coming to-morrow morning.”
“True, I did not think of the ball when I spoke,” Mr. Temple admitted, but with a look of disappointment sweeping over his face.
He could not for a moment think of having her give up the ball, and he was equally anxious to attend it, for he had insisted upon having her order a magnificent costume, and had also had some jewels reset for her to wear upon the occasion. After all this lavish preparation, he knew it would be foolish to miss the affair, and simply to gratify a mere whim of his own.
Consequently he was obliged to go alone, although he made his arrangements for his trip with an unaccountable sense of reluctance and uneasiness.