“If we would do good, we must put ourselves in the way,” she replied. “Nothing is gained by standing afar off.”
“Then you mean to call upon her again?”
“She held my hand at parting, with such an earnest pressure, and looked at me so kindly when she said, 'Your visit has been very pleasant,' that I saw the way plain before me.”
“You will wait until she returns your call?”
“I cannot say. It will depend upon the way things shape themselves in my mind. If I can do her good, I shall not stand upon etiquette.”
As I came in sight of my modest little home a few days afterwards, I saw the stylish carriage of Mrs. Dewey dash away from my door, taking a direction opposite to that by which I was approaching.
“How are the mighty fallen!” It was hardly a good spirit by whom this thought was quickened, for I was conscious of something like a feeling of triumph. With an effort I repressed the ungenerous state of mind.
“So your call has been returned,” said I, on entering our sitting room.
“Yes. How did you know?” Constance looked up, smiling, but curious.
“I saw Mrs. Dewey's carriage leave our door as I turned into the street. Did she come in, or only leave her card?”