“Nothing.”

“But he may be sick, or he may not have got your letter.  Such queer mistakes do happen.”

“Parker took it to his hotel; the clerk said he was still in his room; it was sent to him in Parker’s sight and hearing.  There is not any doubt but that he received it.”

“Well, suppose he did not.  Still, if he really cares for you, he is hardly likely to take your supposed silence for an absolute refusal.  I have said ‘No’ to Carrol a dozen times, and he won’t stay ‘noed.’  Mr. Smith will be sure to ask for a personal interview.”

Eleanor answered drearily:  “I suppose he will pay me that respect;” but through this little effort at assertion it was easy to detect the white feather of mistrust.  She half suspected the touchy self-esteem of Mr. Smith.  If she had merely been guilty of a breach of good manners toward him, she knew that he would deeply resent it; how, then, when she had—­however innocently—­given him the keenest personal slight?

Still she wished to accept Alice’s cheerful view of the affair, and what is heartily wished is half accomplished.  Ere she fell asleep she had quite decided that her lover would call the following day, and her thoughts were busy with the pleasant amends she would make him for any anxiety he might have suffered.

But Mr. Smith did not call the following day, nor on many following ones, and a casual lady visitor destroyed Eleanor’s last hope that he would ever call again, for, after a little desultory gossip, she said, “You will miss Mr. Smith very much at your receptions, and brother Sam says he is to be away two years.”

“So long?” asked Eleanor, with perfect calmness.

“I believe so.  I thought the move very sudden, but Sam says he has been talking about the trip for six months.”

“Really!—­Alice, dear, won’t you bring that piece of Burslam pottery for Mrs. Hollis to look at?”

So the wonderful cup and saucer were brought, and they caused a diversion so complete that Mr. Smith and his eccentric move were not named again during the visit.  Nor, indeed, much after it.  “What is the use of discussing a hopelessly disagreeable subject?” said Eleanor to Alice’s first offer of sympathy.  To tell the truth, the mere mention of the subject made her cross, for young women of the finest fortunes do not necessarily possess the finest tempers.

Carrol’s next visit was looked for with a good deal of interest.  Naturally it was thought that he would know all about his friend’s singular conduct.  But he professed to be as much puzzled as Alice.  “He supposed it was something about Mrs. Bethune; he had always told Smith not to take a pretty, rich woman like her into his calculations.  For his part, if he had been desirous of marrying an heiress, and felt that he had a gift that way, he should have looked out a rich German girl; they had less nonsense about them,” etc.

That was how the affair ended as far as Eleanor was concerned.  Of course she suffered, but she was not of that generation of women who parade their suffering.  Beautiful and self-respecting, she was, above all, endowed with physical self-control.  Even Alice was spared the hysterical sobbings and faintings and other signs of pathological distress common to weak women.