"It is the most beautiful trait in womankind." Mr. Bovyer responded, heartily, just as a passionate retort had sprung to my lips. The second's interruption gave me time to regain my self-control; but the color flamed over brow and cheek as I rose and walked to the farther end of the room and stood turning over the leaves of a book lying on the table. I could still hear what was said and was surprised that Mr. Winthrop turned the conversation so cleverly into other channels. It was growing late, and before long the guests retired. Mr. Bovyer, as he shook hands with me, said: "You have not answered my question yet. Will you come to the Philharmonic to-morrow evening?"
I looked to Mr. Winthrop for a reply.
"I think you must deny yourself that pleasure, as we shall probably go home to-morrow."
"So soon?" I asked with surprise.
"The time I limited myself to expired yesterday. We can return this winter, and complete any unfinished business or pleasure that you now leave undone."
"My business is finished. It happens to be a pleasure to return to Oaklands."
I murmured my thanks to Mr. Bovyer, and withdrew the hand he was still holding.
When we were at last alone, Mrs. Flaxman drew her chair near the fire and settling back comfortably as if she were in no hurry to retire, said very seriously:—"This is unexpected—our going home to-morrow."
"I am afraid Bovyer is about making an ass of himself. Strange what weaknesses come over strong men sometimes! He was the last I should have expected such a thing from," Mr. Winthrop said.
"Was it fear of this that sends you home so abruptly?" Mrs. Flaxman asked, with a look of amusement.