"Well, I'm afraid it's quite a long good-bye," she said.
"Oh, you're going away?" said Angel, with a shade of relief involuntarily in her voice.
"Oh, yes, perhaps before we meet again, you and Henry will be married. I'm sure I sincerely hope so."
"Thank you," said Angel, somewhat coldly.
"Well, good-bye, Henry," said Myrtilla,--it was rather a strangled good-bye,--and then, in an evil moment, she caught sight of the Dante's head which, hidden in a recess, she had not noticed before. "I see you're still faithful to the Dante," she said; "that's sweet of you,--good-bye, good-bye, Miss Flower, Angel, perhaps you'll let me say, good-bye."
When she had gone there seemed a curious constraint in the air. You might have said that the consistency of the air had been doubled. Gravitation was at least twice as many pounds as usual to the square inch. Every little movement seemed heavy as though the medium had been water instead of air. As Henry raised his hands to help Angel off with her jacket, they seemed weighted with lead.
"No, thank you," said Angel, "I won't take it off. I can't stay long."
"Why, dear, what do you mean? I thought you were going to stay the evening with me. I've quite a long new chapter to read to you."
"I'm sorry, Henry,--but I find I can't."
"Why, dear, how's that? Won't you tell me the reason? Has anything happened?"