“Now I’ve offended him. Well, if it does him good, I’m glad; if it makes him hate me, I’m sorry; but it’s true, and I can’t take back a word of it.”
They laughed and chatted all the way home; and little Baptiste, up behind, thought that monsieur and mademoiselle were in charming spirits. But both felt ill at ease; the friendly frankness was disturbed, the sunshine had a shadow over it, and despite their apparent gayety, there was a secret discontent in the heart of each.
“Shall we see you this evening, mon frère ?” asked Amy as they parted at her aunt’s door.
“Unfortunately I have an engagement. Au revoir, mademoiselle ,” and Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and warmly—
“No; be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I’d rather have a hearty English handshake than all the sentimental salutations in France.”
“Goodbye, dear,” and with these words, uttered in the tone she liked, Laurie left her, after a handshake almost painful in its heartiness.
Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end:—
“My dear Mentor— “Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for ‘Lazy Laurence’ has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations.