“So immersed in meditation, my Lord?”
“I am thinking of my departure.”
“You are not going to leave us?”
“I must depart the day after to-morrow. Business of great importance requires my personal attendance at Ma***t.”
This news produced surprise and silence. The coldness of Lady Delier began to thaw. “I hope your business, my Lord,” said she, “is not so very pressing.”
“Alas! it is so pressing that it suffers not the least delay.”
“Alas!” Amelia repeated, “one should think your departure was painful to your heart!” She blushed, as if she had said something imprudent.
“Alas! it is too painful to my heart; but who cares for my heart?”
“Indeed,” Lady Delier replied, “you think very unkind of us.”
“It is a gloomy night,” said Amelia, going to the window, and the thread of our conversation was cut off at once. I endeavoured to lead it again to its former channel; however I perceived that the conversation grew irksome and dull; it turned on a hundred most insignificant trifles, but the Countess avoided carefully to touch the former string, although I sounded it repeatedly, softer or louder. At length I took leave. Lady Delier was so kind as to see me down stairs; I told her that an important visit from the Irishman, whom I had endeavoured in vain to put off, had prevented me from keeping the appointment. She took my excuse very kindly, and made me promise to meet her the next morning at ten o’clock at the fir grove.