I looked at him in amazement. His eagerness was almost painful to see; there was a bright red spot upon each cheek, and his eyes shone fiercely. His gentle, sympathetic manner of the past few days seemed to have disappeared.
"If you insist upon my going," I said, to humor him, "I will go; but I would sooner stay at home with you."
"Nonsense." He spoke so roughly that the tears started to my eyes. He saw this and looked remorseful.
"I will follow you, Elsie, if I can," he said.
"Perhaps I m-may join you during the evening, though—"
He got no farther. He was ill, I thought, and possibly an evening alone would do him good. I had given him no opportunities to miss me since we had been in America. I had found so much pleasure in his society, that I was determined to enjoy it. Did I not know, clearly enough, that he loved me, at last? Had I not been able to recognize that fact with sufficient distinctness? Of course I had. He wanted me to go to the opera, and I would go and amuse myself. I
