"When Orpheus played, he touched the rocks and trees,
But you, my lady, only touch the keys."
However, we have dejeuner at half-past eleven, and if you like to join us any morning I shall be happy to let you hear my interpretation of Beethoven—such as it is."
"Next to the present time there is no time so sure as the immediate future, and if I thought that you would not be too tired after to-night, I should do myself the honor to accept your kind invitation to-morrow morning."
"I shall not stay here much longer," said Miss O'Flaherty, smiling. "And, as to my being tired, I expect to be out before eight o'clock in the morning. So, if you like to come, we—for I think I can speak for my aunt—shall be happy to see you; and after dejeuner you will have an opportunity of criticizing my performance, for I generally play the piano for an hour or two in the middle of the day. We are stopping at the Maison Normande, on the Promenade des Anglais."
If we had been in England there would have been something shocking in a young lady giving such an invitation to a stranger with whom she had merely danced at a public ball. But we were not in England, and Miss O'Flaherty spoke with an unconscious ease and authority that made the whole arrangement seem quite natural. If she had been her own mother she could not have chaperoned herself more effectively or gracefully.
"I shall be very punctual," I said in a serious tone, which I intended to be very respectful.
"I hope you will keep your word better with me than you have with my aunt," she replied, laughing. "You promised to bring me back as soon as the last dance was over," saying which she rose, and I had to follow her in quest of Mrs. O'Flaherty.
So then Mrs. O'Flaherty was only her aunt and not her mother. "Thank God," I said to myself. Why thank God? Why, because I was in love with her. I did not realize it quite at once. We found Mrs. O'Flaherty. They left early. I saw them into their carriage, and left the ball as soon as they had gone. It was not till I got out into the beautiful, soft, southern night that I realized the words of Mr. Chambers, when I announced my intention of marrying Miss Grey "I believe that if any words could balk you in your purpose, it would be the greatest kindness that ever was done you."
"Why did he not balk me?" I asked myself, angrily and illogically. I had met my better self in Miss O'Flaherty. She was the being for whom I had unconsciously yearned through all these years. Was I to be kept from her by a phantom?