Ingelow at the other. He was pale--she flushed
indignant red. She was grieved, and hurt, and cruelly mortified. She had
found out how dearly she loved him, only to find out with it he was
absolutely indifferent to her; he was ready to plead another man's
cause, yield her up to her bolder lover.
She could have cried with disappointment and mortification, and crying
was not at all in Mollie's line. Never until now had she given up the
hope that he still loved her.
"It serves me right, I dare say," she thought, bitterly. "I have been
a flirt and a triller, and I refused him cruelly, heartlessly, for that
old man. Oh! if the past could be but undone, what a happy, happy
creature I should be!"
The oppressive silence lasted until Mrs. Sharpe re-entered with some
needle-work. Then Mr. Ingelow rose and looked at his watch.
"I believe I'll take a stroll down Broadway," he said, a little coldly.
"Your friend Miriam will probably be here before I return. If not, there
are books yonder with which to beguile the time."
Mollie bowed, proudly silent, and Mr.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348