United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
As he received it, their fingers met, and a hot flush rushed over the
lawyer's weary face. He bit his lip, and recovered himself before she
observed his emotion.
"That alms-giving episode is destined to yield an inestimable harvest
of benefits. But I must hurry away. Pray do not take passage for the
jungles of Oude before I return, for whenever you leave me I should
at least like the ceremony of bidding my ward adieu. Good-bye."
She gave him her hand.
"Good-bye, Mr. Palma. I hope you will have a pleasant trip."
As she stood before him, the rich blue of her soft cashmere dress
rendered her pearly complexion fairer still, and though keen pain
gnawed at her heart, no hint of her suffering marred the perfection
of her face.
"Lily, where did you get those lovely white hyacinths? Yesterday I
ordered a bouquet of them, but could procure none. Would you mind
giving me the two that smell so deliciously in your hair? I want
them--well--no matter why. Will you oblige me?"
"Certainly, sir; but I have a handsomer fresher spike of flowers in
a glass in my room, which I will bring down to you."
She turned, but he detained her.
"No, these are sufficiently pretty for my purpose, and I am hurried.
I trust I may be pardoned this robbery of your floral ornaments,
since you will probably see neither Mr. Roscoe, Mr. Chesley, nor yet
Padre Sahib this evening."
She laid the snowy perfumed bells in his outstretched hand, and said:
"I am exceedingly glad that even in such a trifle I can contribute to
your pleasure, and I assure you that you are perfectly welcome to my
hyacinths."
The sweet downcast face, and slightly wavering voice appealed to all
that was tender and loving in his cold undemonstrative nature, and
he was strongly tempted to take her in his arms, and tell her the
truth, which every day he found it more difficult to conceal.
"Thank you. Some day, Lily, I will tell you their mission and fate.
Should I forget, remind me."
He smiled, bowed, and hurried from the room, leaving her sadly
perplexed.
At dinner Mrs. Palma said:
"I have promised to chaperon the Brace sisters to-night to the opera,
and shall take tea at their house. Were I sure of a seat for you, I
should insist upon taking you, for I dislike to leave you so much
alone; but the box might be full, and then things would be awkward."
"You need have no concern on my account, for I have my books, and am
accustomed to being alone. Moreover, I am not particularly partial to
the music of 'Martha' which will be played to-night."
"Did your guardian tell you he has just won that great 'Migdol' case
that created so much interest?"
"He mentioned it. Mrs. Palma, I thought he looked weary and jaded; as
if he needed a rest, rather than a journey."
"Erle is never weary. His nerves are steel, and he will speedily
forget his court-house cares in Mrs. Carew's charming conversation."
"But she is not in Washington?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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