tantine Stefanopoulos's memorandum
into my pocket.
The general result of the evening was to increase most distinctly my
interest in Neopalia. I went to bed, still thinking of my purchase,
and I recollect that the last thing which came into my head before I
went to sleep was, "What did she mean by pointing to the ring?"
Well, I found an answer to that later on.
CHAPTER II.
A CONSERVATIVE COUNTRY.
Until the moment of our parting came, I had no idea that Beatrice
Hipgrave felt my going at all. She was not in the habit of displaying
emotion, and I was much surprised at the reluctance with which she
separated from me. So far, however, was she from reproaching me,
that she took all the blame upon herself, saying that if she had been
kinder and nicer to me, I should never have thought about my island.
In this she was quite wrong; but when I told her so, and assured her
that I had no fault to find with her behavior, I was met by an almost
passionate assertion of her unworthiness, and an entreaty that I
should not spend on her a love that she did not deserve. Her abasement
and penitence compelled me to show, and indeed to feel, a good deal
of tenderness for her. She was pathetic and pretty in her unusual
earnestness and unexplained distress. I went the length of offering
to put off my expedition until after our wedding; and, although she
besought me to do nothing of the kind, I believe we might in the end
have arranged matters on this footing had we been left to ourselves.
But Mrs. Hipgrave saw fit to intrude on our interview at this point,
and she at once pooh-poohed the notion, declaring that I should be
better out of the way for a few months. Beatrice did not resist her
mother's conclusion; but when we were alone again, she became very
agitated, begging me always to think well of her, and asking if I were
really attached to her. I did not understand this mood, which was very
unlike her usual manner, but I responded with a hearty and warm avowal
of confidence in her; and I met her questions as to my own feelings
by pledging my word very solemnly that absence should, so far as I was
concerned, make no difference, and that she might rely implicitly on
my faithful affection. This assurance seemed to give her very little
comfort, although I repeated it more than once; and when I left her, I
was in a state of some perplexity, for I could not follow the bent
of her thoughts, nor appreciate the feelings that moved her. I
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