"And Mr. Islay, and Judge and Mrs. Morris, and—"
"You have seven already," interrupted Mr. Bergan, "making ten with ourselves; which I hold to be the magic number for a dinner party. If you want to invite anybody else, better wait till another time."
Mrs. Bergan was wise enough to be the bearer of her own invitation to Mrs. Lyte; else it would scarcely have been accepted. The latter had lost the taste for society with the habit of it; nothing short of the personal solicitation of her old friend, now asking it as a favor to herself, and now urging it for Astra's sake, would have induced her to give up, even for a few hours, the seclusion that had slowly been transformed, for her as for most invalids, from a grievous necessity into a calm pleasantness.
Thus far, Mrs. Bergan was successful. But she missed seeing either Astra or Bergan; both happened to be out, on their respective ways. As regarded the former, it did not much matter; but she was sorry not to see Bergan, and utter the few graceful words of apology for the past, as well as of promise for the future, wherewith she had intended to preface her invitation to dinner, and inaugurate her new policy. As it was, she could only leave a pencilled note of invitation on his desk, and reserve her explanation for a personal interview. Then she went back to the studio, where she admired everything cordially, and with wonderful impartiality. Carice, meanwhile, was hanging over the winged cherub, with a deep, silent delight that went to Mrs. Lyte's heart.
"You will take such pleasure in meeting her again!" she said to Astra, when she came in, a few moments after the visitors had gone. "She is just the friend that you need."
"I am not so sure about that!" returned Astra wilfully. "I sometimes catch a glimpse of her at church; and she looks a great deal too soft and dainty and delicate for a friend. If I were a Roman Catholic, I might set her up in a corner, and worship her as a madonna, or a saint. But, being a Protestant, I really don't see that I have any need of her,—or she, indeed, of me!"
Mrs. Lyte shook her head in mild reproof. "You do say such strange things, Astra," said she, "things so liable to be misunderstood."
"You do not misunderstand them, mamma," returned Astra, fondly.
"No, but Mr. Arling might."
Astra turned, in surprise, and met Bergan's quiet smile. He had come in just behind her, and had heard almost the whole.