"Friday," said Staniford, rummaging his portfolio.
"Have you been in Venice?"
"Look here, Dunham! If you begin in that way, I can"t talk to you.
It shows that you"re still out of your head. How could I have been in Venice?"
"But Miss Blood; the Aroostook--"
"Miss Blood went to Venice with her uncle last Sat.u.r.day. The Aroostook is here in Trieste. The captain has just gone away. He"s stood watch and watch with me, while you were off on business."
"But didn"t you go to Venice on Monday?"
"Well, hardly," answered Staniford.
"No, you stayed with me,--I see," said Dunham.
"Of course, I wrote to her at once," said Staniford, huskily, "and explained the matter as well as I could without making an ado about it.
But now you stop, Dunham. If you excite yourself, there"ll be the deuce to pay again."
"I"m not excited," said Dunham, "but I can"t help thinking how disappointed--But of course you"ve heard from her?"
"Well, there"s hardly time, yet," said Staniford, evasively.
"Why, yes, there is. Perhaps your letter miscarried."
"Don"t!" cried Staniford, in a hollow under-voice, which he broke through to add, "Go to sleep, now, Dunham, or keep quiet, somehow."
Dunham was silent for a while, and Staniford continued his search, which he ended by taking the portfolio by one corner, and shaking its contents out on the table. "I don"t seem to find it; but I"ve put it away somewhere. I"ll get it." He went to another coat, that hung on the back of a chair, and fumbled in its pockets. "h.e.l.lo! Here are those letters they brought me from the post-office Sat.u.r.day night,--Murray"s, and Stanton"s, and that bore Farrington"s. I forgot all about them." He ran the unopened letters over in his hand. "Ah, here"s my familiar scrawl--"
He stopped suddenly, and walked away to the window, where he stood with his back to Dunham.
"Staniford! What is it?"
"It"s--it"s my letter to _her_" said Staniford, without looking round.
"Your letter to Miss Blood--not gone?" Staniford, with his face still from him, silently nodded. "Oh!" moaned Dunham, in self-forgetful compa.s.sion. "How could it have happened?"
"I see perfectly well," said the other, quietly, but he looked round at Dunham with a face that was haggard. "I sent it out to be posted by the _portier_, and he got it mixed up with these letters for me, and brought it back."
The young men were both silent, but the tears stood in Dunham"s eyes.
"If it hadn"t been for me, it wouldn"t have happened," he said.
"No," gently retorted Staniford, "if it hadn"t been for _me_, it wouldn"t have happened. I made you come from Messina with me, when you wanted to go on to Naples with those people; if I"d had any sense, I should have spoken fully to her before we parted; and it was I who sent you to see if she were on the steamer, when you fell and hurt yourself.
I know who"s to blame, Dunham. What day did I tell you this was?"
"Friday."
"A week! And I told her to expect me Monday afternoon. A week without a word or a sign of any kind! Well, I might as well take pa.s.sage in the Aroostook, and go back to Boston again."
"Why, no!" cried Dunham, "you must take the first train to Venice. Don"t lose an instant. You can explain everything as soon as you see her."
Staniford shook his head. "If all her life had been different, if she were a woman of the world, it would be different; she would know how to account for some little misgivings on my part; but as it is she wouldn"t know how to account for even the appearance of them. What she must have suffered all this week--I can"t think of it!" He sat down and turned his face away. Presently he sprang up again. "But I"m going, Dunham. I guess you won"t die now; but you may die if you like. I would go over your dead body!"
"Now you are talking sense," said Dunham.
Staniford did not listen; he had got out his railroad guide and was studying it. "No; there are only those two trains a day. The seven o"clock has gone; and the next starts at ten to-night. Great heavens!
I could walk it sooner! Dunham," he asked, "do you think I"d better telegraph?"
"What would you say?"
"Say that there"s been a mistake; that a letter miscarried; that I"ll be there in the morning; that--"
"Wouldn"t that be taking her anxiety a little too much for granted?"
"Yes, that"s true. Well, you"ve got your wits about you now, Dunham,"
cried Staniford, with illogical bitterness. "Very probably," he added, gloomily, "she doesn"t care anything for me, after all."
"That"s a good frame of mind to go in," said Dunham.
"Why is it?" demanded Staniford. "Did I ever presume upon any supposed interest in her?"
"You did at first," replied Dunham.
Staniford flushed angrily. But you cannot quarrel with a man lying helpless on his back; besides, what Dunham said was true.
The arrangements for Staniford"s journey were quickly made,--so quickly that when he had seen the doctor, and had been down to the Aroostook and engaged Captain Jenness to come and take his place with Dunham for the next two nights, he had twelve hours on his hands before the train for Venice would leave, and he started at last with but one clear perception,--that at the soonest it must be twelve hours more before he could see her.
He had seemed intolerably slow in arriving on the train, but once arrived in Venice he wished that he had come by the steamboat, which would not be in for three hours yet. In despair he went to bed, considering that after he had tossed there till he could endure it no longer, he would still have the resource of getting up, which he would not have unless he went to bed. When he lay down, he found himself drowsy; and while he wondered at this, he fell asleep, and dreamed a strange dream, so terrible that he woke himself by groaning in spirit, a thing which, as he reflected, he had never done before. The sun was piercing the crevice between his shutters, and a glance at his watch showed him that it was eleven o"clock.
The shadow of his dream projected itself into his waking mood, and steeped it in a gloom which he could not escape. He rose and dressed, and meagrely breakfasted. Without knowing how he came there, he stood announced in Mrs. Erwin"s parlor, and waited for her to receive him.
His card was brought in to her where she lay in bed. After supporting Lydia through the first sharp shock of disappointment, she had yielded to the prolonged strain, and the girl was now taking care of her.
She gave a hysterical laugh as she read the name on the card Veronica brought, and crushing it in her hand, "He"s come!" she cried.
"I will not see him!" said Lydia instantly.
"No," a.s.sented her aunt. "It wouldn"t be at all the thing. Besides, he"s asked for me. Your uncle might see him, but he"s out of the way; of course he _would_ be out of the way. Now, let me see!" The excitement inspired her; she rose in bed, and called for the pretty sack in which she ordinarily breakfasted, and took a look at herself in a hand-gla.s.s that lay on the bed. Lydia did not move; she scarcely seemed to breathe; but a swift pulse in her neck beat visibly. "If it would be decent to keep him waiting so long, I could dress, and see him myself. I"m _well_ enough." Mrs. Erwin again reflected. "Well," she said at last, "you must see him, Lydia."
"I--" began the girl.
"Yes, you. Some one must. It will be all right. On second thought, I believe I should send you, even if I were quite ready to go myself. This affair has been carried on so far on the American plan, and I think I shall let you finish it without my interference. Yes, as your uncle said when I told him, you"re all Americans together; and you _are_. Mr.
Staniford has come to see you, though he asks for me. That"s perfectly proper; but I can"t see him, and I want you to excuse me to him."
"What would you--what must I--" Lydia began again.
"No, Lydia," interrupted her aunt. "I won"t tell you a thing. I might have advised you when you first came; but now, I--Well, I think I"ve lived too long in Europe to be of use in such a case, and I won"t have anything to do with it. I won"t tell you how to meet him, or what to say; but oh, child,"--here the woman"s love of loving triumphed in her breast,--"I wish I was in your place! Go!"
Lydia slowly rose, breathless.
"Lydia!" cried her aunt. "Look at me!" Lydia turned her head. "Are you going to be hard with him?"