"I am not going," he answered. "I did not intend it, mamma."
She lifted her hand as he lay there, to push the hair from his brow, with a fond movement, and stooped to kiss him.
"How hot your forehead is, William! Have you the headache, too?"
"Not much. A little."
"I think the wind brought on mine to-day," observed Mrs. Gall. "That, and the fright connected with Dick Loftus. William, that's a brave boy, that young Paradyne. I'm so glad we brought him."
"First-rate."
"I cannot think why the college should dislike him: it gets more and more of a puzzle to me. He is very good-looking. Did you notice his beautiful eyes and his flushed face when Mr. Bouncely was giving us that narrative at dinner? He was quite a picture then. By the way, William, what a most shocking thing that was!"
"Not pleasant."
"Not pleasant!" repeated Mrs. Gall, rather shocked at the apparently light tone. "Can you imagine anything more dreadful? A mistake, or calamity, so long as it is confined to this world, is not beyond the pale of remedy; but—when it comes to rushing into the next! William, I am sure that thinking of that poor mistaken youth has made my head worse."
William Gall gave no particular reply; his mother thought he was sleepy, and said no more. Sleepy! with the consciousness on his soul of what he was about to do! with the awful amount of responsibility, already making itself heard, that was weighing him down! There was no such blessing as sleep for him.