Mrs. Gildersleeve did not entirely approve of her husband's way of putting it, and observed, "As to what your brother says, Mark, about Miss Heath's fortune, or her father's fortune, I know you never would be actuated by any motives in regard to that. Miss Heath, I'm sure, will be a treasure and prize to any man even if she never has a penny in the world."
"Very likely," said Mark, affecting indifference. "Miss Heath is certainly a very pleasant and refined young lady."
"Indeed, she is," said Mrs. Gildersleeve, emphatically, "and more than that, a very good young lady."
Mark's gratification at receiving the invitation was instantly dampened, when he reflected that he could not avail of it without exposing himself to unfavorable comparison in the eyes of one whom he was most desirous of pleasing. The old feeling of false shame, the morbid sensitiveness in regard to his lameness, revived; and he dreaded to challenge criticism in an assemblage where he longed to shine. Hence it was with a sharp pang of mortified vanity and disappointment that he set about writing a "regret," alleging as an excuse for not being able to accept Miss Heath's invitation, the conventional fib, a prior engagement. Twice he wrote such a missive, and each time tore it up when in the struggle between sense and self-love the former gained the ascendancy; but in the end that exaggerated self-importance which leads us to believe the rest of the world vastly interested in our haps and mishaps, our appearance and position--this infatuation triumphed, and the "regret" was despatched.
"Well, Mark," said Mrs. Gildersleeve on the appointed evening, "Miss Heath's party comes off to-night, don't it? From all I hear it's going to be a grand affair. They say there have been I don't know how many hundred invitations sent out, and some are coming even from New York."
"So much the better, then, for I don't think I shall be missed," said Mark with a forced smile.
Mrs. Gildersleeve dropped her work and looked at him in surprise. "Missed! You don't mean to say that you are not going?"
Mark looked rather confused. "I do mean to say so. I--I don't feel like it."
"Dear me, you're not sick, I hope?" inquired Mrs. Gildersleeve with a look of concern.