The next morning there was an early breakfast, for which Elizabeth was ready. Then Winthrop took her directions for things to be forwarded from Mannahatta. Then there was a quiet leave-taking; on his part kind and cool, on hers too full of impassioned feeling to be guarded or constrained. But there was reason and excuse enough for that, as she knew, or guard and restraint would both have been there. When she quitted his hand, it was to hide herself in her room and have one struggle with the feeling of desolation. It was a long one.
Elizabeth came out at last, book in hand.
"Dear Miss Haye!" Mrs. Nettley exclaimed — "you're dreadful worn with this hot weather and being out of doors all day yesterday!"
"I am going out again," said Elizabeth. "Clam will know where to find me."
"If you had wings, I'd know where to find you," said Clam; "but on your feet 'taint so certain."
"You needn't try, unless it is necessary," said Elizabeth dryly.
"But dear Miss Haye!" pleaded Mrs. Nettley, — "you're not surely going out to try the sun again to-day?"
Elizabeth's lip quivered.
"It's the pleasantest place, Mrs. Nettley — I am quite in the shade — I can't be better than I am there, thank you."
"Don't she look dreadful!" said the good lady, as Elizabeth went from the house. "Oh, I never have seen anybody so changed!"