Not much later, the Lieutenant said good night, for, as he stated, he had to leave for his duties early next morning.
“And I’m sorry if I offended you, Miss Fairfield, and I hope you’ll forgive me,” he begged. “But,—well, my only excuse is, the temptation was too great, and the opportunity was mine, so I said more than I intended, and more than I ought.”
“All right, Lieutenant, if you didn’t mean it, I forgive you.”
“I don’t say I didn’t mean it,—for that wouldn’t be true; but I didn’t mean to tell you of it.”
“Then,” and Patty spoke gravely, now, “never let any circumstance or opportunity tempt you to do it again.”
“Then I mustn’t see you,” Herron said, in a low voice.
“Very well, then don’t see me. It will be far better for both. Where is your sense of honour? of fairness? Another man’s fiancée is not to be thought of, save with respect and courtesy.”
“I know it,” and the man looked miserably sad; “and I do mean to treat you with all respect and courtesy,—but, oh, Miss Fairfield, Patty,—let me call you that just once,—if you knew how broken up I am over it all!”
“Then,” said Patty, firmly, though she was touched at the sight of his evident suffering, “then the only thing is for us not to meet again, at all. I’m sorry, Lieutenant Herron, for I like you, but these matters are often outside our own will, and so, I can see no way but for us to keep apart.”
“May I not come to see you next time I’m in town?”
“I think not,” said Patty, gently, and then she bade him a courteous but definite and final good night.
Patty’s bedroom was a pretty, cheery and charming place. The sunlight came in through delicate, lacy curtains, the furniture and appointments were all that a fastidious taste could desire, and the pictures and trinkets scattered about were beautiful and attractive. There were always fresh flowers in the vases and the whole effect was conducive to happiness and contentment.
Yet across the lace-covered bed was the outstretched form of somebody who had flung herself there in a very abandonment of woe. Somebody with golden curly hair, from which the boudoir cap had fallen unheeded; somebody who was digging a little wet mop of a handkerchief into eyes that flowed with tears like a very freshet of rain. Somebody who was shaking and quivering with great racking sobs that were all the more agonising because they were silent.