“Pray resume your seat, Miss Paradise—I beg your pardon, Miss——” here she consulted the card—“Miss Eden,” she finished, her lips curling.
“Oh, I forgot about the card,” exclaimed Fan deeply distressed. “You are vexed with me because—because it looks as if I wished to take you by surprise. Will you let me explain about my change of name?”
“You need not take that trouble, Miss—Eden. I have not the slightest interest in the subject. I only desire to know the object of this visit.”
“My object was only to—to see the inside of the house again. I did not know that you were living here now. I had invented an excuse for calling. But if I had know you were here—oh, if you knew how I have wished to see you!”
“I do not wish to know anything about it, Miss Eden. Have you so completely forgotten the circumstances which led to our parting, and the words I wrote to you on that occasion?”
“No, I have not forgotten,” said Fan despairingly; “but when I saw you I thought—I hoped that the past would not be remembered—that you would be glad to see me again.”
“Then you made a great mistake, Miss Eden; and I hope this interview will serve to convince you, if you did not know it before, that I am not one to change, that I never repent of what I do, or fail to be as good as my word.”
“Then I must go,” said Fan, scarcely able to keep back the tears that were gathering thick in her eyes. “But I am so sorry—so sorry! I wish—I wish you could think differently about it and forgive me if I have offended you.”
“There is nothing to be gained by prolonging this conversation, which is not pleasant to me,” returned the other haughtily, advancing to the bell to summon the servant.
“Wait one moment—please don't ring yet,” cried Fan, hurrying forward, the tears now starting from her eyes. “Oh, Mary, will you not shake hands with me before I go?”