Carlita was sleeping fitfully.
The morning had broken brilliant and balmly, as an indolent day in idle spring, with the usual inaccuracy of our unstable climate. Through the neglected slats of her shutters the sun crept in delicious defiance, and after a time awakened her. She arose and opened the shutters wide, then lay back upon the bed, her arms stretched out like those of an infant in his idle longing to clasp the golden beam. She had forgotten the old ache in her heart for the time, but life was suddenly recalled to her by the gentle opening of her door and the entrance of her maid.
"Good-morning, Ahbel," she exclaimed, lazily. "Is the morning as glorious as it looks, or is poor humanity deceived by the brilliancy of the sun?"
"It is like a perfect day in summer," answered the maid; "it is even more beautiful than it looks. Here is a letter for you. It is so early that I feared to bring it lest I should disturb you; but the messenger is waiting, and insisted that you should receive it at once. There is also one for Miss Chalmers."
Carlita raised herself upon her pillow and took it, an expression of interest in her dark eyes. She broke the seal, and as the first words met her eye, would have flung it from her but for the presence of her maid. As it was, she compressed her lips angrily, and read it calmly:
"Darling Carlita: I arose with the lark this morning, my breast too small a space for the confinement of my great joy, and find the day so superb that I have planned a little excursion in which I know you will be interested. You have never seen my yacht, the 'Eolus.' I have her now at the yacht club pier at the foot of Twenty-sixth Street—ordered out of winter quarters for the trip I expected to take, but will not, thank Heaven!—where she is rocking in the gentlest breeze of the year, longing to welcome the presence of her sweet mistress. Won't you come out for a little cruise? It will be indescribably beautiful today. I have written to Jessica, asking her and Mrs. Chalmers, and shall find Redfield Ash or Dudley Maltby, and perhaps Colonel Washburn for Mrs. Chalmers, if you will only consent. Of course you can come back any time that you may get tired of it, if you are not a good sailor; but I assure you that the day is too fine for danger from mal de mer, even if you are the worst on record. Don't disappoint me, darling. If you consent, I will send up for you at ten-thirty, so that you can be at the pier at eleven, sharp. It will be impossible for me to come myself, as there will be considerable that will require my attention. The bay is magnificent. Anticipating a day of elysium,
"Yours faithfully unto death,
"Leith."
The very sight of the name distressed her, bringing back all the horror and suffering, the very mental exhaustion of the evening before. She hated him still more that he had intruded upon her forgetfulness, her happy oblivion of the moment, and sprang from the bed, intending to pen a hasty refusal.
Her escritoire stood in the corner by the window, and as she sat down, the sun streamed through, touching her shoulder with a warmth that was caressing.
She paused, with the pen poised in air, and looked out.
How smilingly beautiful nature was!