She thought it very singular that he had not before mentioned the fact of his intention to leave at this point. She knew that later on he was intending to go farther South.
“Yes,” he said, his heart beating heavily, as he read the regret in her eyes. “Some gentlemen have arranged for an ocean trip, intending to touch at the Santa Barbara Islands and land at San Diego, whence they will proceed into Mexico. I am going with them.”
All the light had died out of Virgie’s face during this explanation. It seemed as if there was nothing left for her to enjoy during the remainder of the tour.
She had never realized before how dependent for enjoyment she had been upon his society, and now he was going another way. Perhaps they would never meet again; he would doubtless go directly back to England after his return from Mexico, and that would end this delightful episode of her life.
Her heart cried out against the separation, and, like a flash, it came to her how much this frank, noble young Englishman had become to her.
She did not know what to say to him; she stood there silent, wretched, and pale as the snowy lace that lay in folds upon her white neck.
“You—have changed your plans quite suddenly, have you not?” she at last managed to stammer.
“It is rather an unexpected move,” he tried to say, in a natural tone; “but I may never have another opportunity to take a voyage upon the Pacific Ocean, and it seems best that I should go.”
It would have taken but very little more to have broken the fair girl down entirely. In all her life she had scarcely known a trial, hardly a wish ungratified, and this had come upon her like a thunderbolt from the sky.
She knew that she ought to make no sign before him, and yet she could not repress all feeling.