Of course I sang, although I was tempted to refuse, and leave the house instead. How could I refuse Miss Courtland? Her voice was exquisite—sympathetic. It made me feel as though I could confide in her. What if I should! Yes, and be cut the next time we met. I felt painfully the chasm that divided us, gentle and cordial as she was, and left as soon as the song was over. I wonder whether I shall see her again?
February 13th.—I have been out several times this week, and twice have met Miss Courtland. Her uncle never goes out, and Mrs. Delancey chaperons her. She always seems glad to see me, and certainly has the most charming manners. Never mind the fact of my being a whited sepulchre. Let me enjoy the goods the gods have sent me. That confounded Morton! he is always at Miss Courtland’s elbow, and when he succeeds in engaging her to dance before I do, he looks at me with his insolent smile.
February 15th.—Morton’s malice is unspeakable. Feeling convinced as I do that he suspects my secret, it is positive torture to see him talk to Miss Courtland as he did last night. He evidently spoke of me, and she listened to him, looking at me meanwhile with a surprised expression. That man has me in his power.
February 20th.—I feel that it is unprincipled to send Miss Courtland flowers, for two reasons—first, because I cannot do it and pay my bills as well; secondly, because it adds to my deception in making a friend of her, and yet I cannot resist the temptation to show her my admiration.
February 21st.—Matters are coming to a climax. Last night Miss Courtland said, with a dignified sweetness that was irresistible: “Mr. Valentine, I have noticed that you have never been to see me. I have not asked you, because I supposed you would feel at liberty to come after having dined with my uncle.”
“I assure you, Miss Courtland,” I said, “I should of course have done so, but the truth is I have had a slight misunderstanding with your uncle, and I do not feel that I can go to his house.”
Of course I added a lie to the rest of my duplicity. Her face was lighted with a charming smile. “That is no reason for not coming; you owe my uncle a call at all events. I will be at home to-morrow—no, Thursday afternoon. Come in about five o’clock, and I will give you a cup of tea. My uncle is never at home until six o’clock, and when he does come in, never sees visitors. Even if you do meet him, it will be a good opportunity to make your peace with him.”
In a kind of dream I recklessly consented.
Morton came pushing up at that moment.
“By the way, Miss Courtland,” he said, “will you be at home Thursday afternoon? If so, with your permission, I will call upon you.”