When the boat brought us back to the wharf, there
were the rest of my flowers unbestowed, and upon whom
should I bestow them? I thought first of Eliza
La Heu, but she wouldn’t be at the Exchange so
late as this. Then it seemed well to carry them
to Mrs. Weguelin. Something, however, prompted
me to pass her door, and continue vaguely walking on
until I came to the house where Miss Josephine and
Miss Eliza lived; and here I rang the bell and was
admitted.
They were sitting as I had seen them first, the one
with her embroidery, and the other on the further
side of a table, whereon lay an open letter, which
in a few moments I knew must have been the subject
of the discussion which they finished even as I came
forward.
“It was only prolonging an honest mistake.”
That was Miss Eliza.
“And it has merely resulted in clinching what
you meant it to finish.” That was Miss
Josephine.
I laid my flowers upon the table, and saw that the
letter was in John Mayrant’s hand. Of course.
I avoided looking at it again; but what had he written,
and why had he written? His daily steps turned
to this house—unless Miss Josephine had
banished him again.
The ladies accepted my offering with gracious expressions,
and while I told them of my visit to Live Oaks, and
poured out my enthusiasm, the servant was sent for
and brought water and two beautiful old china bowls,
in which Miss Eliza proceeded to arrange the flowers
with her delicate white hands. She made them
look exquisite with an old lady’s art, and this
little occupation went on as we talked of indifferent
subjects.
But the atmosphere of that room was charged with the
subject of which we did not speak. The letter
lay on the table; and even as I struggled to sustain
polite conversation, I began to know what was in it,
though I never looked at it again; it spoke out as
clearly to me as the launch had done. I had thought,
when I first entered, to tell the ladies something
of my meeting with Hortense Rieppe; I can only say
that I found this impossible. Neither of them
referred to her, or to John, or to anything that approached
what we were all thinking of; for me to do so would
have assumed the dimensions of a liberty; and in consequence
of this state of things, constraint sat upon us all,
growing worse, and so pervading our small-talk with
discomfort that I made my visit a very short one.
Of course they were civil about this when I rose,
and begged me not to go so soon; but I knew better.
And even as I was getting my hat and gloves in the
hall I could tell by their tones that they had returned
to the subject of that letter. But in truth they
had never left it; as the front door shut behind me
I felt as if they had read it aloud to me.
