My daughter is not very well, I fear," he added in
explanation to the artist.
"Perhaps it has been a little close here in the lobby," suggested
Van Berg, "and a walk in the open air will be agreeable. If you
will trust your daughter to me, sir, I promise to bring her back
before she is tired. I have much to tell her about her old friend,
Mr. Eltinge, whom I visited yesterday, and the pictures. Perhaps
you will go with us, for I know what I have to say will interest
you also."
"I think I'll light another cigar and wait for you here," Mr. Mayhew
answered quietly. "Old people like to sit still after their day's
work, and if Ida feels strong enough I would enjoy hearing the rest
of the concert."
"It would be hard to resist the temptation to hear anything about
dear old Mr. Eltinge," said Ida, taking the artist's arm, and
feeling as if she were being swept away on a shining tide.
"You WERE glad to see me, Miss Mayhew, and you can't deny it," Van
Berg began exultantly.
"You almost crushed my hand, and it aches still," was her demure
reply.
"Well, that was surely the wound of a friend."
"You are very good to speak to me at all, after all that's happened,"
she said in a low tone and with downcast face.
Pages:
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586