The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
slip away without their having said much to each other. Henry was
afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
respect to his declining health.
"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
thought-the reflection led to misery.
She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
more than can be well conceived.
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