I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not enlighten me
at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte Benson. It was very
matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters always were. Evidently he had
thought the same of it himself, as he read it over, and had added the
postscript. But that did not seem very enthusiastic. Altogether I was
not happy, waiting for six o'clock to come.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A DINNER

Time and chance are but a tide,
Slighted love is sair to bide.

The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the door was
standing open between them, as I walked up and down the parlor, waiting
nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was bright, and the only light
in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, which we had brought from Italy.
There were flowers on the table, and in two or three vases, and the
curtains were pretty, and there were several large mirrors. Outside, it
was the twilight of a dark autumnal day; almost night already, and the
lamps were lit. It lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I
felt very much agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a
half since I had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked
just the same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether
he seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked
about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying to
excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard was not
altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought there must
be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine caprice, and I
began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had to remind myself,
more than once, that I was not responsible to any one.

"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer to this
grave business-man, for disarranging two years of carefully-laid plans.

I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had been so
long apart, and he had grown so much older.

"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said at
last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of it. "I
shall think you are not glad, to see me."

"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, it's so
long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not know how to
go to work."

"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've been so
good?"

Susan,