June was now not many weeks off; and hour after hour, the question, "would Mr. Rutledge remember his promise?" perplexed my brain. I knew I had done enough to have forfeited it; I knew it had been made hastily; that, indescribably and unaccountably, he was changed since then, and we had ceased to be anything like friends. Still, I was nearly certain he would keep his word; whatever else he might forget, he would not forget that. No matter if it bored him, as I almost knew it would, I was sure he would do it just the same. Though I had a thousand fears that I should not be allowed to go, I knew I should be sent for, and I was not disappointed. It was the first morning that I had breakfasted downstairs; I had been well enough for a week, but a languor and indifference possessed me that made me averse to all thought of change or exertion. Now, however, that I was actually in the cool dining-room, where white curtains replaced the heavy winter drapery of the windows, and white matting the thick carpet, I wondered that I had not made the effort before. It was vastly more attractive than my own room, certainly; and the parlors, as I glanced into them, looked in comparison, almost imposing in their vastness. The world, I saw, had been creeping in again. There were notes and cards on the table, and a lovely basket of violets; the piano was open, and some new music lay on it. Josephine, too, at breakfast, talked of drives and engagements that showed the days of mourning were over. There was little difference in my aunt's manner from formerly, but she looked ten years older, and was somewhat colder and more precise. "Who on earth can that be from?" Grace exclaimed, as John brought in the letters, and Mrs. Churchill took up the only one that did not look like an invitation or a milliner's circular. "It's from out of town," she continued, reaching out her hand for the envelope, as her mother laid it down. "It's postmarked Rutledge! What can Mr. Rutledge have to say to mamma? Joseph, doesn't your heart beat?" If Joseph's didn't, mine did, and so quickly, too, that I felt sick and faint, and dreaded lest Grace's prying eyes should inquire the cause of my alternating color. But the letter absorbed the attention of all, and I could only wait till Mrs. Churchill should divulge its contents. Josephine tried to look undisturbed, but there was an accent of impatience in her tone, as she said: "Well, dear mamma, may I see it, if ever you should finish it? I suppose there is nothing that I may not know about."