“David, you don’t seem a bit glad to see me,” blamed Kate sweetly in her
pretty, childish tones, looking into his face with those blue eyes so like
to liquid skies. Almost there was a hint of tears in them. He had been
wont to kiss them when she looked like that. Now he felt only disgust as
some of the flippant sentences in her letters to Harry Temple came to his
mind.
His face was stern and unrecognizing.
“David, you are angry with me yet! You said you would forgive!” The gentle
reproach minimized the crime, and enlarged the punishment. It was Kate’s
way. The pretty pout on the rosy lips was the same as it used to be when
she chided him for some trifling forgetfulness of her wishes.
The other guests had all gone into the house now. David made no response,
but, nothing daunted, Kate spoke again.
“I have something very important to consult you about. I came here on
purpose. Can you give me some time to-morrow morning?”
She wrinkled her pretty face into a thousand dimples and looked her most
bewitching like a naughty child who knew she was loved in spite of
anything, and coquettishly putting her head on one side, added, in the
tone she used of old to cajole him:
“You know you never could refuse me anything, David.”
David did not smile. He did not answer the look. With a voice that
recognized her only as a stranger he said gravely:
“I have an important engagement to-morrow morning.”
“But you will put off the engagement.” She said it confidently.
“It is impossible!” said David decidedly. “I am starting quite early to
drive over to Albany. I am under obligation to be present at the starting
of the new steam railroad.”
“Oh, how nice!” said Kate, clapping her hands childishly, “I have wanted
to be there, and now you will take me. Then I—we—can talk on the way. How
like old times that will be!” She flashed him a smile of molten sunshine,
alluring and transforming.
“That, too, is impossible, Mrs. Leavenworth. My wife accompanies me!” he
answered her promptly and clearly and with a curt bow left her and went
into the house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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