"What is that?" she asked;—"oh, Mr. Arling, were you burned last night in trying to save me?"
Bergan looked at Diva and smiled. "It is nothing," said he, lightly,—"only your aunt and Miss Thane insisted upon binding it up after I got home; and the least that I can do is to wear their kindly handiwork for a day or two."
"Oh, Diva," exclaimed Coralie reproachfully, the quick moisture coming into her eyes, "why did you not tell me?"
"Why should I?" replied Diva, with somewhat bitter emphasis; "hands heal quickly."
"Miss Thane is quite right," said Bergan; "the matter was not worth mentioning. Certainly, it was not worth one of those tears, Miss Coralie; you will make me too proud of having gotten a small scratch in the fray. If it were ten times as much, it would in nowise offset what I owe your father. Now I must bid you farewell, or I shall miss the train."
"Will you not come up again soon?" asked Coralie, coloring a little, but strong in the certainty that she could not err in showing her preserver the most cordial courtesy. "It must be good for you to leave the city as often as you can. And you have certainly earned the right to consider Farview as your home, whenever it suits you to do so."
"Thank you," said Bergan, bowing in acknowledgment of the kind and thoughtful invitation. "But I am necessarily a busy and homeless man, and it is the truest wisdom for me not to stray too far out of my proper orbit, lest I get dissatisfied with it. When I become more fully and firmly settled therein, a day's absence may not matter so much; and then, if your invitation still holds good, I shall be only too happy to avail myself of it."
"It must always hold good, just as a kindness once done is done forever," replied Coralie warmly, turning a deaf ear to the unseasonable inner voice that cried out against the coolness and reserve of Bergan's response, and holding out a tremulous little hand, by way of signature and seal to her promise.
Bergan gave the hand a friendly pressure, and bowed low to Miss Thane. "A pleasant summer to you both," said he, "full of flowers and sunshine, both material and metaphorical. Farewell."
He lifted his hat as he rode through the gate; very soon a turn of the road hid him from sight. Coralie stood looking somewhat wistfully at the point where he had disappeared.